


Bulletproof

by hollycomb



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: Canon-Compliant for Shazam movie only, DCEU Canon Divergence, Dark Comedy, First Love, Future Fic, M/M, Mystery, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Secret Identity, Superheroes, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 116,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: Twelve years after going their separate ways as adults, Freddy still feels like his real home is wherever Billy Batson is. So he’d be down for saving the world together, if possible.(Although, however--)(It's complicated.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the Shazam movie canon only. I’d venture to say it’s for fans of the movie who aren’t particularly invested in other DC superhero properties, because I’m not familiar with the other DCEU movies or shows and certainly not with the comics (aside from the basic cultural osmosis), and if something wasn’t literally onscreen in Shazam I’m taking liberties with it for plot purposes. 
> 
> The mystery in the fic is inspired by the basic concept of [Irredeemable](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irredeemable), though it’s not as dark as that premise and doesn’t resemble the actual plot of that canon-- Just felt like I should mention it since having unprocessed angst (and nightmares!!) about Irredeemable is part of why I think I got so into Shazam, lol.
> 
> The fic is set when Freddy and Billy are 30 years old, and chapters alternate between the present action and Freddy’s memories of the past, when they fell in love as teenagers (pining at 16, figuring things out at 17, really being together at 18). I posted the first two chapters together to give the idea of how this will work in the overall dual narrative. 
> 
> So for all who are interested with these content notes in mind, hope you’ll enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> **

By the age of thirty Freddy has been on top of every skyscraper in Philadelphia. One South Broad has been his favorite since he was a kid, and it’s still the place he picks to meet Billy most often, which is maybe why it was his favorite to start with, though he can’t remember which one of them favored it first. It has a classic feeling, like a comic book illustration of a skyscraper, and he likes sitting inside the illuminated bell tower on the roof at night, waiting. 

He’s always been the one who gets there first. Billy is many things, but never punctual, unless there’s a literal fire to put out or a person to rescue from a vehicle that’s sinking into the river. 

Tonight the light inside the bell tower is green, which is Freddy’s favorite of the rotating colors. It seems like a good omen, but his heart is still beating uncomfortably fast as he scans the skies for Billy’s arrival. Billy has never been careful enough-- not before the summer of 2022, when it became newly dangerous to be a superhero, and not since. He has this unflappable sense of false security because he’s been riding a streak of good luck ever since getting his powers, unlike Freddy, who would have taken the elevator up here if he could have. 

He feels himself grinning when he spots Billy in the distance, the end of his white cape peeking out from his characteristically lame attempt at disguising the costume. Billy thinks there’s no point in hiding all the screamingly obvious Shazam colors under a trenchcoat if he’s going to be flying anyway, and Freddy sees his point, but a dark coat still does _something_ to give him cover at night, should he need it. It’s been almost three years since the last high profile murder of a superhero, but whoever’s been doing it since that first dark summer has never been caught. The killer is still out there somewhere, and they have a very particular set of targets.

“Don’t tell me I’m late,” Billy says, shouting this before he’s even got his feet on the roof. “I’m not! Am I?”

“You’re neither early nor on time, so I’m not sure what else to call it,” Freddy says. He doesn’t really care, especially when Billy lands on the roof and jogs forward to grab him, pulling him into a stumbling hug that still has some flight velocity behind it.  

Freddy laughs deep in his chest and hugs him back, hard and maybe for too long, clinging a little shamelessly. He never knows how their reunions will play out physically, let alone otherwise. Sometimes they fall together like the old days and start tearing each other’s clothes off before either of them can get a word out. Sometimes it’s all business and curt nods, usually just if they’re in public but occasionally, brutally, it’s like that when they’re alone together, too. Sometimes-- the worst times --they just don’t see each other for weeks. Once it was months, and that separation is still etched onto Freddy in some unseeable but real place on his body, marking him like a bad scar. 

In this case it’s only been about a week since they last met up, but Billy still lets Freddy hold onto him until it’s probably awkward, Freddy’s chin on Billy’s shoulder and his arms tight around his back.

“Okay, sorry,” Freddy says when he makes himself pull free. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”

Billy rolls his eyes, maybe at the apology. He gives Freddy’s waist a squeeze and lets Freddy pull him inside the bell tower, until they’re mostly hidden behind one of its massive pillars. Billy stands close enough to make Freddy wonder if this will be, like, a kissing kind of evening. Their last meetup wasn’t.

“Is this about the news?” Billy asks. 

“What news?” Freddy asks, because he does have some, but it’s definitely not common knowledge, and he hasn’t entirely decided if he’s even going to tell Billy about it or not.

“Wonder Woman,” Billy says, as if that explains it.

Freddy shakes his head, then realizes what he’s talking about. Wonder Woman is one of the only superheroes still publicly active, not sneaking around out of fear of being the killer’s next victim. She gave a speech the day before, after stopping some traditional supervillain who hasn’t yet been identified from creating a massive sinkhole that would have swallowed Disney World. After the crisis was averted, she held an impromptu press conference and seemed to imply that things were returning to normal, or that they could. She’s hopeful, anyway. Freddy isn’t so sure. Supervillains who try and fail to open city-sized sinkholes are one thing. The still-at-large, insidiously successful superhero serial killer is another. 

“Not that,” Freddy says. “Though-- What about it?”

“I just thought it was cool that she came out and said that. That we’re not afraid anymore.”

“We aren’t? Two year gaps between murders have happened before. Why’s almost three years any different?”

“That’s not what she was saying. She’s not immortal, you know.”

“I didn’t say she was!” As if Billy knows more about this stuff than Freddy does, even now. “But, it’s-- Never mind, great for her. I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to start patrolling openly, though. Not yet, okay? Please?”

“If not yet, then when?” Billy frowns and paces, putting some distance between them. Freddy’s heart sinks. He doesn’t _need_ to be kissed, necessarily, but he really can’t muster the energy for a fight right now. “I’ll be thirty next month!” Billy says, as if this is reason enough to be reckless. He turns back to Freddy and smiles a little. “That officially makes me an old man, like you.”

“Yeah, welcome to elderly life.” Their birthdays are just over two months apart, Freddy’s in mid-spring and Billy’s right at the official start of summer. 

“Oh, is that what this is about?” Billy says, walking close again. Freddy floats a little as he approaches, rising up in the air just enough to make them the same height. “You want to know what I want for my birthday?”

“Yeah, obviously that was what was super urgent and could only be discussed in person.”

Freddy regrets the sarcasm when the sweetness in Billy’s eyes dims a little. Billy was only joking, trying to keep things light, and Freddy had to go and be a jerk about it out of nowhere. He withholds a groan, wishing they weren’t so stupidly tense around each other. Not all the time, but sometimes, and always at wildly varying levels that give him emotional vertigo, or maybe whiplash is the better term. 

“What, then?” Billy asks, serious now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” 

Freddy can’t tell him, or anyway, he shouldn’t, but he has to tell someone. He was threatened pretty seriously not to breathe a word to anyone about this thing, or else, and every threat carries the implication that his family could be hurt, too, if the threatening party has somehow figured out his secret identity, and in this case that seems likely. But he trusts Billy completely, and how would the weirdo who reached out to him about this supposed ‘information’ on Superman’s whereabouts know that he told Billy?

Still, he hesitates, swallows, and says nothing while Billy waits, staring at him, eyebrows lifting.

“Oh,” Billy says, and he grins, stepping closer. “I see. Is this what you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” He reaches for Freddy’s waist again and pulls him back down to the surface of the roof, gently. When Freddy’s heels are planted, Billy again has five inches of height over him, superhero-forms or not, and it seems more obvious than ever when he’s standing close and looking down into Freddy’s upturned face. “It was all over in a matter of minutes?” Billy says, muttering their old inside joke in a way that’s probably supposed to sound seductive.

Freddy laughs in a nervous sputter and floats off the ground again, grunting in not-quite annoyance when Billy tugs him back into place with a smirk. When they were seventeen, before superheroes had reason to hide, Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet stopped some particularly hapless criminals from robbing a jewelry store downtown. The news article about it ended with the phrase ‘it was all over in a matter of minutes,’ which was funny to them, as they had recently started fooling around with each other in secret, and this phrase applied perfectly to what went on in the bottom bunk in their room, too. It became their regular refrain to make each other laugh at inappropriate moments, also blush, and to this day it makes Freddy shiver a little with anticipation. 

“Your mind goes right to that, huh?” Freddy says. “That I must be calling you up to the top of a skyscraper to make out with you?” 

“It was like my third guess, dude.”

Freddy snorts and lets Billy swoon in for a kiss, because why deny it? He does need this, actually, and did have it in mind when he sent Billy a text in their private code language for when and where to meet, even if it wasn’t the actual, primary reason. 

He tries not to think, while kissing the love of his life, who is here in his arms for however long, massive and warm and so fucking good at this, about who else Billy might have kissed recently, or last, before this one, was it Freddy himself? Was it someone Freddy knows, one of Billy’s regulars who comes to trivia night with them when they’re not in superhero costumes? Or just some random person he’ll never see again? Billy gets the fuck around, both in the costume and out of it, and he always has, although, no-- not always. There were those two years when he didn’t, the ones that are still lodged so deep in Freddy’s heart that he hasn’t even touched anyone else since college. This is enough for him, until it isn’t.

“Damn, Freeman,” Billy says, pulling back to smirk at him, as if he’s not a little breathless himself, or squeezing Freddy’s ass. He looks down at the hand that Freddy has snuck into the front of his trench coat, where he’s rubbing his fingers over the texture of Billy’s costume and thumbing at the border of the lightning bolt, just close enough to feel the crackle of power. He still gets off on both after all this time, even while wearing a near-identical costume himself. “Are you finally gonna let me have you on top of a skyscraper?” Billy asks, though Freddy is already giving him a look that conveys his response, which is hell no. “Ooh, hey, that’s what I want for my birthday!” Billy says, eyes going wide. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. “Yes! C’mon, don’t look at me like that. It’s my thirtieth. It’s a big deal!”

“You can fuck me on top of a building for your seventieth birthday, how’s that.” 

“You promise?”

Billy laughs at Freddy’s grossed-out expression and kisses him again. It goes on until Freddy begins to sweat under his costume, which is rare when he’s in super-form, brought on by very few things, Billy being one of them, and only when they pull apart abruptly at the sound of sirens down below is he certain he’s not going to do something untoward up here under the green light, with a hot wind that feels like summertime blowing through the bell tower and ruffling their hair.

“We should go help,” Billy says, already retying his trench coat.

Freddy nods. “It might be nothing, though. Traffic stop.” 

“Sure, and they just as likely might need our help. C’mon! It’ll be fun. When’s the last time we kicked ass together?”

Billy is already in the air, and Freddy has to admit it feels good to lift off and follow him out of the bell tower, over the edge of the building, and rapidly down toward the sound of the sirens below. Freddy ties his coat around himself in mid-flight. His is at least long enough to cover the end of his cape, which admittedly makes it look dorky, fashion-wise. But looking dorky is pretty much his style, at this point.

The commotion down below ends up being a drunk man who has fallen over the edge of a rooftop bar and is clinging precariously to a window ledge below, seven stories up. So there are no asses to kick, and the rescue is over in less than a matter of minutes, Freddy swooping down to hoist the drunk guy into his arms while Billy uses super speed to position himself below, just in case. Freddy lands beside him and the drunk man blubbers curses in disbelieving gratitude, still clinging to Freddy’s shoulders. The crowd up on the rooftop bar cheers wildly from above, maybe more wildly than such an easy rescue really deserves, and so do the handful of people who have gathered on the street, bracketed off by the cops. 

Billy beams at everyone, clearly having missed this kind of public interaction as much as the cheering crowd has, and when he lifts his arm to wave the trench coat pulls open at the top, exposing the lightning bolt on his costume.

Freddy can’t grudge him this. He likes the sight of it too much: Billy as he should be, helping people and being adored. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen any heroes in the city,” the lead police officer on the scene says after he’s thanked them, the drunk guy safely loaded into an ambulance. “Your kind of heroes, anyway,” he says, nodding to the still-exposed lightning bolt on Billy’s chest.

“We’re still here,” Billy says. “We wish, uh, that we could be more visible, that it could still be like it was--”

“Oh, sure, but we get it. Better to be discreet, these days, I’m sure.”

“Yes, please be careful!” a nearby woman who’s listening in calls out to them. She’s been looking on with the rest of the crowd, many of them taking pictures and video on their phones. The woman seems annoyed by the guy next to her, maybe her boyfriend, and reaches over to make him lower his phone. “Don’t post those!” she says to the others who are capturing images. “You know it’s dangerous for them!”

“It’s okay,” Freddy says, waving his hand through the air, though she’s right. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.” 

“That’s right,” Billy says, and he walks up to one of the recording phones. “We won’t be intimidated into staying in hiding,” he says, narrowing his eyes as if he’s speaking directly to the media-dubbed Super Killer who’s been silent for years.

Oh god, oh no. Freddy winces and pulls Billy backward. Of course he took it too far. Freddy shouldn’t have encouraged him. 

“Um, so, the situation looks secure, so we’ll be going now,” Freddy says, because the crowd is getting larger, people running over and pointing. He hears at least one man getting openly emotional over seeing Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet together, saying it’s been so long. Freddy feels something tugging hard at the center of his chest, because, yeah. He knows the feeling.

“Stay safe!” Billy says, reaching out to touch the hands of a few people who throw their arms out toward him as if begging him to stay. “And if you can’t-- We’ll be there.”

Ugh, ugh, no. Even if that’s true, they shouldn’t be advertising it as if to boast, inviting trouble. Freddy is tense with renewed paranoia as they blast away, though of course he’s glad they acted quickly, glad that man who fell is okay. His fingers were slipping when Freddy reached him, barely hanging on, and since the police had just arrived on the scene, they probably couldn’t have set up a net down below to catch him in time. Freddy wouldn’t do anything differently, but what if all this was at the expense of pulling the attention of an invisible, frightfully powerful monster who’s overdue for his next kill onto them-- Onto Billy, who won’t take it seriously enough--

He can’t let himself think about it that way when he’s up in the night sky with Billy, soaring alongside him until they come to a stop mid-air between two of the tallest buildings in the city, both a little breathless not from exertion but from the thrill of just being out here together: patrolling, flying, doing good. Freddy can’t scold Billy right now, and he doesn’t want to. He’s beaming, too, that old feeling of endless potential pulsing through him.

“Race you back to your place,” Billy says, and an electric thrill travels from Freddy’s head to his heels, lightning-like, because he knows that that means. 

“Go!” Freddy says, blasting off in a flimsy attempt at cheating to get the lead, which is pointless because Billy will win, anyway, and because Freddy doesn’t even give half a damn about winning, pretty sure he’s going to get the prize he wants when they get there regardless.

The only thing that might throw a wrench into his hopes about what’s about to happen is if Darla is home, but he’s pretty sure she’s working late tonight. She and Freddy have been roommates since she finished college, and it works well, except that though she knows about him and Billy she has never wanted to go anywhere near the details, and really doesn’t want to think about the two men she still considers her brothers doing whatever behind Freddy’s closed bedroom door on occasion. Freddy respects her wishes on this matter religiously and never hosts any trysts with Billy if she’s there. If she’s back from work early for some reason, they’ll just have to, what? Get a motel room? He’s sure as shit not going back to Billy’s place, which is such a mood-killer that Freddy hasn’t even set foot on the premises since attending a disastrous cocktail party there ten years ago, hosted by the owner of the _manor_ that Billy’s guest house sits upon.

But ugh, no, no-- He’s not going to think about Dick Grayson right now, eternal ruiner of everything. If the threat of the Super Killer zeroing in on them can’t ruin this evening, the unhappy fact that Dick Grayson exists certainly won’t.

They land in Freddy’s usual transformation spot, an alleyway between a pair of buildings two blocks down from the one where he and Darla live. Transforming is tricky, in terms of how much attention they’re willing to draw with the bolt that strikes down, and how much damage the bolt can do. Usually it’s only dangerous when they’re transforming into their super-selves, not back, but they still try to use caution. Things have taken them by surprise before. 

They’re both out of breath after they’ve changed back, and they lock eyes for just a moment before turning toward the street to make sure no one saw them transform. When the coast seems clear, Freddy limps over to retrieve his crutch from the spot where he usually stashes it, inside the brick alcove around the back entrance to what used to be a laundromat. Billy races over to help him retrieve it as if he can’t do it himself, also as usual.

“Thanks,” Freddy says, not in the mood to be cantankerous about this, though it’s still such a comedown, every single time, to get zapped back into this body that can’t fly, among other issues he has with it. He doesn’t want to think about it enough to lose the adrenaline rush that he’s still riding, and maybe Billy knows this, because he leans into the alcove to give Freddy a hungry kiss that makes him feel like he’s still flying, their chests heaving together when Freddy pulls him close. 

“Please tell me Darla isn’t home,” Billy says, muttering this against Freddy’s lips.

“Not for a few hours, I think.” 

“Good, ‘cause I’m taking you back up to the top of One South if she is.” 

“Shut up,” Freddy says, grinning, so wound up now that he almost likes the idea.

They walk the two blocks as quickly as Freddy can manage, and his hip is aching by the time they make it into his building’s elevator, also the small of his back, but he doesn’t care. His breath is still coming out choppy from the anticipation of finally having some relief for the biggest ache that he carries around all day, every day, even in super-form.  

“Don’t look at me,” Freddy says when Billy leans next to him in the elevator and stares at him as they ascend toward the second floor, too slowly.

“Why not?” Billy asks, laughing under his breath, because he knows. “You’re, like, blushing,” he says, reaching for Freddy’s cheek.

“No,” Freddy says, slapping him away, though of course he is. The heat on his face is creeping down his neck, spreading to his chest. Billy has jumped him in the elevator before, and Freddy just needs to avoid giving in to that temptation for five more seconds, four--

“You looked hot,” Billy says, leaning in close to mutter this against Freddy’s ear, completely aware that he’s driving him crazy. “Carrying that dude, I mean. I miss it so much, Freddy. Doing this together.” 

“I know,” Freddy says, voice a little shaky, because which _this_ is Billy talking about? Makes no difference, in Freddy’s case: “Me too.”

The elevator doors _ding_ open and Freddy exhales, launching himself through them and down the hall to his door as fast as he can. Billy follows, keeping close and looming right up behind Freddy as he unlocks the door, close enough that Freddy can feel Billy’s agitated breath against his ear. 

The apartment is blessedly empty, Darla’s keys not hanging on their designated hook. Freddy bolts the door behind them and turns to tell Billy they have the place to themselves, but he must have noticed, because he’s already pinning Freddy to the door and pushing his thigh up between Freddy’s legs. They grab for each other and kiss with a kind of frantic urgency, as if they have a time limit, exchanging a humid storm of breath and pulling at each other’s clothes, shirts untucked and buttons coming open.

“Nngh,” Freddy says when he can almost talk. Billy’s mouth is hot on his neck and he’s sucking at Freddy’s skin, looking to leave marks. “The, the bedroom,” Freddy says, grinding against Billy’s thigh even as he makes this request, because, god, his thighs, they’re so big and hard and it’s so, too good--

“Bedroom,” Billy says, sort of growling this in agreement. Implying that they should relocate there in case Darla comes home wasn’t Billy’s cue to sweep Freddy entirely off his feet, the crutch having already clattered to the floor, but Freddy doesn’t give a fuck presently, too gone to care that it’ll always be a little embarrassing to be carried in Billy’s arms. 

Because it’s embarrassing, yeah, but at times like this he can admit there’s something he loves about it, too. The first time it happened he was still a kid and Billy was three times his size, in super-form, and it was pretty formative in terms of how inseparably close they got the years to come, that feeling that Billy wouldn’t leave him behind, even if it meant literally carrying him along. Freddy had a crush on Billy’s Shazam form first, his lifelong thing for superheroes too hard to overcome, and he fell in love with the Billy who slept in the bed above his later, more slowly and painfully. 

That boy who slept in the top bunk is now this massive version of Billy, too, the one who is currently crushing Freddy onto the mattress of his grown-up, king-sized bed, which Freddy has never shared with anyone else. At thirty Billy always looks like he does as his Shazam avatar, minus the costume and maybe a little softer in the eyes when he’s not wielding his powers. It’s also possible his muscles aren’t _quite_ as big when he’s not super-charged, though Freddy wouldn’t tell him so. Freddy resembles his original super-powered self all the time these days, too, though of course there’s still the leg, and while Billy says he’s imagining things, Freddy feels skinnier when he’s not the Blue Bullet, also a little bit less handsome. He can never put his finger on why, even when studying his face in the mirror like the insecure dweeb he still is. It might just be that: a lack of confidence that shows on his face when he can’t move however he wants to, unable to even get around on his feet without the crutch, let alone blast through the air to save random citizens who may be clinging to window ledges. 

The one exception to his continued feeling of awkwardness is when he’s in this precise situation, when he wouldn’t change a thing about himself because for whatever reason Billy wants him this much, so much that he moans under his breath as he pulls off Freddy’s shirt, as if the sight of Freddy’s bare chest is something worthy of amazement. It feels true when Billy leans in to kiss him there, dragging his teeth over Freddy’s ribs and already working on the front button of his jeans. 

“You too,” Freddy says, tugging at Billy’s shirt, eager to get it out of the way. 

Billy leaves Freddy’s jeans half opened and sits back to pull off his shirt, sort of preening after he has, because he knows how good he looks and probably always has, even before he looked like this. As kids they would occasionally do a Google search for Billy’s deadbeat biological father, and C.C. Batson was a smirking dreamboat even in his mug shots, go figure. Between that and the way Billy looked as Red Cyclone, Freddy sort of knew he was doomed, even in the early days.

It feels like the opposite of doomed at present, however, with Billy stripping Freddy's pants off before shedding his own. Freddy feels more like _chosen_ , or a least uniquely lucky, when they’re both down to wearing nothing and kissing again, taking turns at pinning each other, breathless and grunting and also laughing at moments, because this still feels so good that it’s kinda funny, when they can finally be alone together and completely have each other, everything on offer and all of it so fucking perfect. Freddy has never gotten over being wanted like this, or really gotten used to it. It feels a little new every time, like a miracle, which almost makes up for the fact that he therefore doesn’t feel like he can count on it to last, even after fourteen years of having it, losing it, and getting it back. 

“How do you want it?” Billy asks when he pulls free from kissing, red across the bridge of his nose in the way that's always meant he’s close to coming, or at least close enough to worry that he’ll go off before he wants to. 

“You in me,” Freddy says, pointing to the drawer by his bed, as if Billy doesn’t know where the condoms are. 

Freddy still gets a little morose every time they come to this part, remembering that afternoon when they were eighteen, Billy’s chin on his chest and the way he said _it’s cool that we’ll never have to use condoms_. Freddy had asked why-- cautiously, hoping for the exact response he got, which at the time was sincere, temporarily true, the most important aspect of the future they thought were actually heading toward.

_‘Cause it’ll always just be us. Me for you, and you for me. Forever, right?_

Right. Except, then the rest of that summer happened. 

Well, whatever. That was a long time ago, and Billy is still here now, falling onto Freddy and pushing his legs open, swallowing up his grateful moan when their mouths reconnect. Neither of them ever lost their obsession with kissing. They always keep at it from start to finish.

“Oh, fuh, yeah--” Freddy hears himself saying when Billy pushes into him, and he doesn’t care that he sounds like an idiot, that his voice gets all choked-off and reedy, doesn’t even care that Billy is too heavy on his sore hip. Billy’s weight pressing down onto all his usual aches feels good when he’s also sliding in slow like this, all the too-much, too-big pressure of the size of him just fucking incredible, and nothing less would do.

“Mmph,” Billy says, breathing his out against Freddy’s neck as if he’s overwhelmed, too, as if the last time they did this wasn’t just a few weeks ago, right here in this bed.  

Freddy pets Billy’s hair and lets him take his time with this feeling of slotting all the way back together, locked into this place where they belong more than any other. At least, Freddy still feels that way. He wraps his legs around Billy’s back, arms tight around Billy’s neck. They both want it to last longer than it will, already, right from the start. 

But the adrenaline from their flight together is still pumping through them, throbbing down along the length of their spines, and as soon as Billy lifts his head for a kiss they’re moving against each other, huffing their breath and nipping at each other’s lips as a reminder to be quiet, even when their bodies make an unmistakable slapping sound as they lose more control, even though there’s nobody outside the closed bedroom door to hear them now. Their old habit of needing to stay quiet is like a sacred ritual now, and it makes the half-swallowed little moans they do allow to escape that much better, when one of them knows the other couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold it in, because it’s too good, so fucking good to give in and have each other hard like this, until Freddy is pulling Billy’s hair while Billy bites love marks into his neck, hammering into him now. 

“God, yeah, _Billy_ ,” Freddy says, whining this out and realizing too late that it will make Billy come. Freddy isn’t ready for this to be over, never is, but he still squeezes up tight around Billy and feels triumphant, loves the feeling of Billy going tense all over and then limp with pleasure, emptying inside him like a surrender. 

“Ah,” Billy says when he lifts his head, still fuzzy-eyed. “You, you want--” 

“Do it while you’re still in me,” Freddy says, maybe wickedly, because Billy’s got to be oversensitive already, though still hard. 

“Mhm,” Billy says, and he reaches down between their bodies, hissing a little when Freddy clenches up tight for the first pumping squeeze of Billy’s hand around his cock. He can’t help it, and anyway, he’s so close, right there, and yes, _yeah_ \--

Freddy arches and cries out, coming in Billy’s hand and pulsing crazily around his cock as it slips out of him, Billy whimpering either for the sight of Freddy falling apart or because his dick can’t take any more stimulation right now. He kisses Freddy’s chest when it’s all jittery in the aftermath, licking over his nipples before surging up to reclaim his mouth, then slides out of bed to get rid of the condom, leaving Freddy feeling too-- Something. But Billy is quickly back, kissing him again. 

They flop onto their sides and huddle together while recovering, both still spaced out and floaty, despite being bound by gravity in these bodies. Billy strokes Freddy’s back, kisses his eyebrow. Freddy keeps his eyes closed and his hand pressed over Billy’s heartbeat, which is pounding at first and then slower, growing calm and steady against his palm. 

“Are you okay?” Billy asks after a while, his hand cupped over the marks he left on Freddy’s neck.

Freddy laughs and blinks his eyes open. He flexes his legs against Billy’s and stretches his back until he feels the knot that’s always on the lower left side tugging at him, making him wince. 

“I’m fine,” he says, giving Billy’s chest a little flick. “You’re well aware that I’m more durable than I look.”

“No, I meant--” Billy bats his lashes and Freddy sees how serious he looks, suddenly. It’s startling. “Just, you told me-- You said it was urgent, um. Was there something you were gonna tell me, really? Up there?”

Freddy moans and rolls onto his stomach, folds his arms and hides his face there. His heartbeat was calming toward sleep, too, but now it’s racing again. He still can’t decide if he should get Billy involved with whatever’s going on with this alleged Superman informant. Billy will have enough on his plate once that video of him from tonight’s rescue inevitably hits the internet. Even if the Super Killer himself isn’t provoked by it, the more run of the mill villains who have been enjoying a crime-riddled renaissance since the superhero quota dropped will attempt some kind of response to that challenge, most likely. 

Plus there’s the fact that he and Billy have very different feelings about Superman these days.

“Rub my back and maybe I’ll tell you,” Freddy says, stalling. 

Billy complies without hesitation, leaning up onto his elbow so he can reach the spot on Freddy’s back that he’s very familiar with, the undying knot from hell that was only ever not a nuisance back when they shared a room, even before they’d ever kissed, after Freddy confessed that his physical therapist told him to have his foster parents rub his back nightly to help with the pain from the daily use of the crutch, which, like, yeah right. He was close with both of them back then and still considers them his real parents, but he was also a teenager who’d only known them for a few years and wasn’t comfortable asking them to rub his back, especially when they were dealing with a dozen other special needs on a daily basis, many of them his. He just put up with the pain until Billy found out about it and insisted on taking care of this long-neglected task every night. Freddy would lie there in a combination of drooling bliss and humiliated agony, because he was always rock hard against the bed by the time this was done, telling Billy to get out, thanks, bye, until a year or so later, when they were both increasingly shameless about what they wanted from each other. 

“Oh, fuck, yes, yuh, _yeahhh_ \--” Freddy hears himself saying now, as if all those years of forcing himself not to moan approvingly when Billy did this for him are still pent up in there somewhere, needing release. He still turns into a melting mess when Billy digs his thumb into the knot on his back in his expert way, circling it like he can unwind the pain with his touch. Freddy moans against the sheets, wet-mouthed already-- again, really --and schools himself to be quieter, because this probably sounds even more like sex than their actual fucking did.

“Freddy, man--” Billy says, stroking his thumb inward, toward Freddy’s spine, then back up to the center of the knot. “This feels bad.”

“Yeah, thanks, it always does-- _unhhh_ , yeah, puh, please don’t stop--”

“It didn’t always feel this bad,” Billy says, muttering. “I mean, it wouldn’t, if--”

“Okay, you want to come here and do this every night?” Freddy sniffs as if Billy has already answered, his thumb going still on Freddy’s back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, so, just--”

“Why are you in such a shitty mood?” Billy asks, digging his thumb in harder, enough to make Freddy squeak a little in something near to pain that somehow still feels so good. “I thought tonight was-- I mean, I had fun.”

“Me too! _Umph_ , yeah, just-- I’m not in a mood. Don’t worry about it.” 

He decides then that he can’t tell Billy about the Superman informant weirdo. It might be nothing, after all. This anonymous somebody wants to meet in person, and Freddy was thinking about defying the instructions and bringing Billy with him, but on the off chance that this crackpot has some real info, maybe he should just do as they say this first time around, or risk blowing the chance to really learn something, though it’s far more likely this person is just some creep who is wasting Freddy’s time.

“Seriously, Freddy,” Billy says, sitting up so he can dig his thumbs into Freddy’s shoulders, using both hands now. “I rubbed your back, so you gotta tell me now. What’s going on with you?”

“Mmmmph. God. What do you want to hear.”

“The truth!”

“Oh, really?” Freddy is sweating a little, too worn out and cozy to invent a cover story. Which means he’s just got to flat out embarrass himself, he supposes. “I, um. You were right, up there. On your third guess. I didn’t really have anything that urgent or important to tell you, I just. Wanted to see you. So, you caught me. Ha-ha. Laugh it up, I guess.”

Billy grunts and flips Freddy over onto his back, frowning down at him. Freddy snorts, because, wow, he’s seriously mad about this? Great, wonderful.

“You think I’m gonna make fun of you for that?” Billy asks, still frowning.

Freddy shrugs, then curses when he hears Darla’s key, the apartment’s front door opening. 

“Get dressed!” he says, and he flings himself off the bed to do the same. Billy is just sitting there naked, looking sad now. Freddy picks up the pile of Billy’s clothes and throws them at him. “Seriously!” he says, whispering. “Show some respect for our sister, yeah?”

Billy makes a face, maybe because this implies Freddy thinks of him as a brother. He never managed that and certainly doesn’t now, but he still considers Darla a sister to both of them. When they were living in Rosa and Victor’s house, after Mary and Pedro had both gone off to college, Freddy and Billy were the de facto babysitters and escorts for the little kids, and while Eugene was already too cool for them, Darla had adored them completely, never tiring of their company. Freddy once heard Rosa joking to Victor that he and Billy were co-parenting Darla when they helped her navigate some disappointment with their opposing-yet-complementary perspectives. Freddy told Billy about this, thinking he would find it heartening, a sign that Rosa and Victor wouldn’t be as horrified and angry as he feared if they found out he and Freddy were in love with each other. 

Billy did not find it heartening. To this day he is mortified at the thought of Rosa and Victor or even Mary ever knowing anything about it. He doesn’t like that Darla knows, and seems to remember this when he hears her call out for Freddy from the apartment’s kitchen, as this inspires him to finally start hurrying into his clothes. 

“I’m here!” Freddy calls back through the closed bedroom door. “Just, uh, one sec, hang on!”

“Why’s your crutch out here?” Darla asks, approaching the door, the packaging of some snack from the kitchen crinkling in her hands. “Can I come in, are you decent?”

“No!” Freddy shouts, probably with far too much panic in his voice. Billy winces, buttoning his jeans. “I’m fine, just-- A minute, I’ll be right out!

“Okay, geez!” Darla says, backtracking. Freddy hears the fridge pull open out in the kitchen and groans under his breath.

“Want me to go out the window?” Billy asks, whispering.

“It’s not that serious,” Freddy says. He hobbles over to his closet to dig out a back-up crutch, and beckons Billy to follow him out into the apartment once they’re both dressed, sex-mussed hair straightened with their fingers. “C’mon, just. It’s fine.” It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.

Freddy opens the door and walks out first, giving Darla a conspicuously animated wave as Billy slinks out of the bedroom behind him, holding his shoes. 

“Billy!” Darla says, and there’s only a little awkwardness in her surprise to see him here. Darla is the queen of diffusing any tense situation in a cheerfully denial-packed way. She grins and walks over to give Billy a hug. “How’s your week going?” 

“Uh, going good.” Billy glances at Freddy after saying so. Freddy flushes, feeling like Billy is giving him the credit for this, because of the undiscussed but obvious thing that just went on in Freddy’s bedroom. He whirls toward the kitchen so Darla won’t see his blush.

“That’s good!” she says. “My friend at work said she saw Red Cyclone on Instagram, like, tonight?”

“Oh, god, already?”

“I told you so,” Freddy calls from the fridge, though he didn’t, really. It was just implied.

“Don’t let Freddy give you the guilt trip,” Darla says. She’s far, far worse than Billy when it comes to eschewing caution and patrolling like an addict, and in the past year she’s gotten back to going out almost nightly. “I think it’s awesome.”

“Blue Bullet was there, too,” Billy says. “So, yeah, his guilt trip is canceled.”

“Oh, really!” Darla turns and beams at Freddy. “That’s great! Aw, you two out on a beat together again. It’s been so long.”

“Don’t call it a beat,” Freddy says, groaning. “And it hasn’t actually been that long, we just weren’t careful enough tonight to stay off people’s cameras.” 

“Did you see Wonder Woman’s press conference?” Darla asks, whirling back toward Billy.

“Yeah!” His eyes light up, mirroring hers. “I found it really inspiring.”

“Me too!”

“It’s a wonderful sentiment,” Freddy says. “But it doesn’t change the fact that the Super Killer is still--”

“Out there, yes, we know,” Darla says. 

“You think Dick ever lets me forget it?” Billy adds. He shrinks a little after saying so, probably because of the answering look on Freddy’s face.

“Oh, um, how is Dick?” Darla asks. She knows who he is, superhero identity and all, because Freddy told her, years after Dick told Billy, who told Freddy-- Just remembering that whole fiasco makes Freddy close the fridge way too hard, which causes Billy’s shoulders to jump.

“He’s fine,” Billy says, looking back to Darla. “I mean, he’s not-- You know, he’s kinda nuts.”

“Kinda?” Freddy says, banging through the kitchen cabinets now, not even sure what he’s looking for.

“I think kinda is accurate,” Billy says, mumbling. 

“Is he still, um, investigating?” Darla asks, meaning the circumstances of Batman’s death, the obsession that united Billy and Dick back in the bad old days. Unfortunately, as Dick is Billy’s landlord, or something, because god knows what Billy is protecting Freddy from when he swears up and down that nothing has ever happened between him and Dick “I don’t interact with anyone but Billy Batson, whom I’m obsessed with” Grayson, the bad old days continue, at least in this sense. 

“He’s-- Yeah, he’s still convinced, you know.”

“That Superman did it,” Freddy says from the kitchen, his free hand braced on the counter and his back turned on Billy and Darla. He shouldn’t take it so personally. Lots of people think Superman must be involved somehow, as he hasn’t been seen or heard from since Batman’s murder, and who else would be powerful enough to kill the ones who were murdered next, top class superheros with no superior except him? But it’s never rung true for Freddy. Just doesn’t seem possible.

“I should get going,” Billy says, voice sharpening. “Freddy’s in some kind of mood.”

“I am not!” Freddy turns toward them, regretting some things about how he’s acted tonight. He can’t control himself when Grayson and his lunatic fixation comes up; Billy knows that. “I’m sorry, just. Let me walk you out, okay?”

Billy nods. He has that sad look on his face again, the one that makes Freddy imagine a backpack slung over his shoulder and a beanie on his head, though otherwise he looks so different from how he did the night they met. His eyes are the same, though: prone to looking sad. 

Darla hugs Billy goodbye after he’s put on his shoes, then Billy and Freddy are alone together out in the hallway, Freddy not even halfway knowing what to say. 

“I didn’t mean to bring up Dick,” Billy says, doing a partial eye roll that’s like an apology and a complaint that he feels like he needs to apologize all in one. “I didn’t want to ruin the whole night.”

“You didn’t,” Freddy says, embarrassed anew by his raging hate boner for that man, which he can’t seem to quash no matter how many years go by. “Let’s not even mention the D-word. That’s not-- Look, everything’s okay. Sorry if I’m weird sometimes. You know, it’s my nature.”

“Mhm.” Billy leans in to give Freddy a soft peck on the lips, lingering close after he has. “I want, just. I want to fix everything.”

“I know, me too, but we have to pace ourselves, okay, even if we do start patrolling more often, or more openly, it’s in everybody’s best interest if we lay as low as possible while also doing the most good, it’s just, it’s always been a balancing act, and with that killer still out there somewhere, it’s just that much more delicate, is all.”

Freddy makes himself stop rambling and takes a breath. He peeks up into Billy’s eyes again. Yep, there he is, looking sad. Because that wasn’t what he meant. Freddy isn’t actually dense enough to have missed that. He just can’t deal with this right now. Or maybe ever. He wouldn’t survive another two seconds of thinking he could have Billy all to himself if what came next was another finding out that he can’t.

“Yeah,” Billy mutters. He sighs and looks down, then up into Freddy’s eyes again before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “So, be careful. With yourself.”

“Ha, yeah, no kidding. Same to you.”

Billy starts to walk off and Freddy grabs his sleeve, pulling him back for a bruising hug. Billy holds onto him just as tightly, and for just as long. He smells so good. For a second, Freddy is going to cry or something, but then he’s fine, fine. He pulls back, letting Billy help steady him until his crutch is braced against the floor again. When it is, he pats Billy’s chest with his free hand, smiles.

“How’re you getting home?” 

“Subway,” Billy says. 

To the train station, presumably, where the car that Dick Grayson bought him waits, and when Billy gets in he’ll drive out to the country, to the manor. But never mind. It’s okay.

“Tonight was really good,” Freddy says, his voice wavering a little.

Billy nods, walking backward toward the elevator bank now, still holding his gaze.

“Yeah,” Billy says, and he smiles in the sweet way that Freddy only seems to see when they’re parting, these days. “It was. Let’s do it again.” 

“Obviously.”

They wave to each other and Freddy makes himself turn and go back inside the apartment. He walks over to give Darla a one-armed hug of pure gratitude, both really glad not to be alone and not wanting to be near anyone but her right now, except of course for the person who’s being taken away by the dinging elevator at the end of the hall. 

“You okay?” Darla asks, slinging her arm around him. 

“Uh-huh.” Well, no. But there’s nothing to tell her about why he isn’t that she doesn’t already know, except for his stress about this Superman informant. He’s definitely not getting her involved in that at this stage. She’d want to jump in with both feet, the way she does when anyone needs help or claims they’re an ally. 

“Is Billy okay?” she asks, more softly, like he might be outside listening, ear pressed to their door.

“Oh, sure. He’s great.”

“I’m making polenta,” she says, gesturing to the pot where she’s stirring what looks like yellow mush. “I learned how at work. Want some?” 

“Sure, thanks. Just gonna take a shower.”

After cleaning up and putting on sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt, Freddy goes to his computer and searches for Red Cyclone. And there he is, on Instagram, on video. Acting like a hero. Freddy chews his lip and closes all his tabs, walks over to collapse onto his bed. 

He should go out there and have dinner with Darla, could use a real meal, and though she’s had the line cook job at this fancy restaurant for less than a year, she’s already becoming a pretty good chef. He can’t make himself move, consumed once again with the mystery that that has seemed to weigh down the whole world since Batman was murdered, his death taking everything that people felt certain about along with it, Superman’s peacekeeping presence included. 

He digs out his phone and stares at the cryptic message from this ‘CK’ person about meeting up to exchange information. Lifting his thumbs, he hesitates for just a few seconds more before finally typing a response.

_OK. Name the place and time. I’ll be there._

CK’s response comes almost immediately, which is as unnerving as anything else about this.

_rathbun’s bar up west near the national forest, off exit 89. 11pm tomorrow. table in back. Come ALONE. no wires, no phone. or there will consequences._

Freddy’s heart is beating faster as he reads the message over and over. It seems impossible that even a crumb of a clue about where Superman disappeared to could be offered to him at a back table in some scuzzy bar, but he’s too curious not to go there and see what this person has to say. The mystery of Batman’s death is especially personal for him. It represents the first crack that formed between him and Billy back then, the little splinter that would become an uncrossable chasm by the time autumn came, and there’s always been some irrational part of him that believes that if he could just solve this mystery he really could fix things between them, which has otherwise always seemed so impossible, even on a night like tonight, when things felt like old times until they didn’t. 

Perhaps just as irrationally, he’s always felt like there’s only one way to solve the mystery of what happened to Batman, and that’s by obsessively reviewing the events of the summer of 2022 and the years that lead up to it. Going over those years according to his own memories means reliving that time in his life it as he experienced it then, carefully unpacking all the precious details. Which is painful, but that’s okay. He knows how to manage pain, and it would be more than worth it if he could uncover some clue he’s always overlooked before. 

And it’s not like he doesn’t relive those years in his mind all the time anyway.

 

**


	2. Chapter 2

For Freddy it started when they were sixteen, though if he was being a true completist he could probably trace the trail of breadcrumbs that lead to falling in love with Billy all the way back to the night they met, when Freddy watched from his bedroom window as Rosa and Victor brought the new kid up to the front door. There was never a time when he didn’t like the way Billy looked, that first night Billy spent in the house or the night after, when Billy was suddenly grown up, huge and powerful in a way that would change both their lives. Freddy had two types, as a teenager who was just beginning to accept that he liked guys: Superman, larger than life and unstoppable, and Batman, brooding and mysterious loner. Billy managed to be both, one when he was in his Shazam form and the other when he was sulking around the house trying to ignore everyone’s attempts to defrost him, and the combination left Freddy pretty much done for.

He couldn’t intelligently wrap his mind around any of this for a couple of years, though he probably should have figured it out sooner. The Shazam situation made them inseparable almost from day one, despite Billy’s early attempts to pull away and Freddy’s willingness to call him a shithead for doing so. By the time they were fighting for their lives against Sivana they were already bound up together in a way that they would never want to pull free from, and then Freddy got his powers-- from Billy, he’s never forgotten --and the way they understood each other reached new heights that were pretty dizzying in those early days. It was a lot to process even before Freddy fell not just tentatively but hopelessly in love with his co-hero, roommate, and best friend. 

The fact that all the roles they played for each other made them feel like two electrons orbiting the same nucleus was maybe part of why they took so long to see each other as people who were separate enough in the first place to come together in another, newly intense way. It seemed like there was no way to get closer, until the one way they could was so obvious that Freddy felt like he was always skirting around its edges, telling himself it was crazy to even think about and then thinking about it all the time anyway. 

Even after they’d been joined at the hip for two years, Freddy was convinced that Billy would only ever see him as his dweeby sidekick. A loveable dweeby sidekick, perhaps, but still just that, and this felt far more true during their time spent at school than it did when they were out on patrol in superhero form. By sixteen Billy was somewhere between looking like a sweet-faced boy and his dashing Shazam avatar self, and the combination served him well when it came to getting the attention of girls at school. He was already six feet tall and filling out toward his full potential, and several coaches at the school tried to recruit him to join their teams, but there was no time for sports or really any other hobbies with their superhero identities busy protecting the city after the necessities of the school week. The fact that Billy lead a whole secret life as Red Cyclone left him aloof and unconcerned with the social standing of himself or anyone else at school, which of course made him all the more appealing to the nonstop parade of people with crushes who tried to capture his elusive attention. 

Freddy observed all of this with growing dread, trying as best he could not to get bitter. No one had a crush on him. Nor did anyone understand why Billy was so devoted to him, aside from the fact that they shared a foster family. Billy “dated” girls, for one definition of dating, and eventually gained a reputation for being emotionally unavailable, flighty, and secretive, which did nothing to quell people’s interest in him. If anything, it increased the amount of nervous giggling and long looks that came his way. 

He and Freddy talked about everything except sex, and there was never even any vague mention of what exactly Billy got up to with these girls when he took them out once or twice before moving on to the next one who was willing to get her heart broken. Freddy began to feel like this gap in their confidence was pointed, maybe even a little insulting, as if Billy kept quiet about it so that Freddy wouldn’t feel extra lame in comparison, but he didn’t want to ask, because truthfully he didn’t want to know. He knew by then that he had no interest in girls himself, and he didn’t like to think about where his increasingly burning jealousy was coming from, if not from there. 

Toward the end of their junior year of high school, the time came for prom. To Freddy it was a non-event: of course no one asked him, what was he going to do at a fucking school dance? It didn’t seem like Billy’s thing either, despite all the offers he was surely getting and not telling Freddy about, so Freddy was surprised and a little hurt when Billy announced at dinner one night that he’d be out late that Saturday, for a date. For prom, he clarified, mumbling, when Rosa asked. 

“Ohhh, prom!” Darla said, starry-eyed and clasping her hands over her chest at the mention of it. “That’s so cool! Are you going to buy the flowers? The ones for the girl’s hand and the boy’s jacket, what do you call them?”

“Boutonniere and corsage,” Victor said, pronouncing both in an elaborately French way that made Darla giggle.

“Yeah, those!” she said, whirling back to Billy. “Can I help pick? Please? What are your colors?”

“My colors?” Billy was grinning a little. He gave Freddy a look of amusement, then held his gaze when he saw Freddy probably looking like he wanted to puke at overhearing this discussion. “Uhh, I don’t have colors picked out,” Billy said, turning back to Darla. “I’ll have to ask her what color her dress is, I guess.”

“Who is it?” Freddy asked, maybe a little sharply. He forced a smile onto his face, sure that it was unconvincing and possibly also disturbed-looking. “Anybody I know?”

“Stacey,” Billy said.

Freddy wasn’t surprised. She and Billy had been hanging out for weeks. There had been walks after school, a movie date. Stacey was beautiful and seemed pretty smart when she gave presentations in Freddy’s honors History class. Whatever, great.

“Are you going, Freddy?” Darla asked brightly, beaming at him. “Like a double date?”

“Do I ever go on double dates with Billy and his chicks?” Freddy asked, regretting how cynical that sounded when Darla wilted a little.

“Chicks?” Rosa said.

“Sorry, kidding. Nah, I’ll be here. For family movie night. As usual.”

Freddy forced another smile that probably looked more like a frozen grimace on his face. 

“Well, good!” Victor said, loud enough to only increase the awkwardness that had developed in the silence that followed. “We’ve got a good one picked out for this week. _The Rocketeer_!”

“Ooh, yay!” Darla said, as if she even knew what that was. Her disappointment that Freddy wouldn’t be double-dating with Billy at prom seemed forgotten, anyway, and Freddy smiled back at her when she beamed at him from across the table. “That sounds like a movie about a superhero,” she said, giving Freddy a wink-wink kind of look that would have been too obvious if Victor and Rosa had any reason to suspect that all their foster kids secretly had super powers in the first place. All of the kids had faithfully kept the truth from them, both because they liked the idea that they could return the favor and keep Rosa and Victor safe, too, in this one way, and also because they knew that there would be all kinds of new rules if the secret got out. 

“The Rocketeer is like a superhero,” Rosa said, nodding. “Only his power doesn’t come from outer space or under the sea-- Well, I won’t spoil the surprise. I loved this movie as a kid.” 

“Sounds great,” Freddy said, trying to seem sincere about this when Rosa gave him a warm, sympathetic look. He actually did love family movie night, and looked forward to it every week like the nerd he was, but only if Billy was staying in, too. Eugene had been adopted by his grandmother, a woman out in California who had surfaced a year ago and who was desperate to have him after finding out that he existed, and Mary and Pedro were both off at college. If Billy went out on a date, movie night was just Freddy and Darla watching with Victor and Rosa, and Freddy was increasingly aware of how pathetic his Saturday nights were, unless Billy was there to make him feel less losery and to laugh at his muttered jokes, the ones Darla wouldn’t understand and that Victor and Rosa might object to if he said them too loud. On those Saturday nights there was no place Freddy would rather be, especially because he and Billy almost always snuck out for a patrol in their super-bodies after everyone else was asleep, and watching some goofy movie together while looking forward to that was half the fun. But without Billy, and especially on loathsome prom night, there would be an invisible hole in Freddy’s chest that would prevent him from enjoying himself. 

After dinner that night he stretched out on his belly in the bottom bunk and pretended to be super focused on his homework. Billy fooled around on the computer and cast worried glances in Freddy’s direction every so often, pairing these looks with impatient little sighs. Freddy could feel this happening even without even lifting his gaze from his homework, his ears burning from the sensation of being pitied. 

“Should we go out tonight?” Billy asked when he was fed up with Freddy’s silence. 

“Is there some reason to?” Freddy asked. They usually didn’t patrol together on school nights, unless they had been tipped off to some criminal activity that would be going down. 

“I dunno, it’s warm out?” Billy said. “Warm-er, anyway.”

It was nearing the end of April, the last of the city’s omnipresent piles of dirty snow finally melted away. Freddy was looking forward to summer with every bone in his body, because in summer they went out together every night, and it felt so good to know he could enjoy the freedom of his super-body at the end of every long day, not just once or twice a week. If it were up to Billy they’d go out every night regardless, but doing so caused them both to fall asleep during class the next day more often than not, and while Billy didn’t give a crap about school and would prefer to sleep through it if he could, Freddy did. They couldn’t ethically make money just for being superheroes, and someday soon they would both need jobs that paid more than Freddy’s fifteen hours per week as a ticket-taker at the movie theater and Billy’s part time hardware store stocker gig. How else would they afford the apartment where they would of course live together after moving out?

“Hello?” Billy said, walking over to the bed when Freddy ignored him, scribbling mathematical calculations that were probably wrong, since he wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing. “I could go alone,” Billy said when he came to sit on the bed, giving Freddy a poke in the back that put him in mind of the embarrassingly good back rubs Billy had recently insisted on giving him to alleviate his chronic pain. 

“You’re that determined to go out?” Freddy said, still scribbling. 

“I feel-- Yeah, like, I just want to, tonight. Come with me. Please? We don’t have stay out long, if nothing’s going on. I just want to fly a little, really.”

“Isn’t it crazy that we can say that?” Freddy asked, rolling onto his side so he could grin up at Billy, mood instantly lifted. “That we _just_ want to go flying with our magical superpowers?”

“Yeah.” Billy was grinning, too. “It’s pretty great. So, c’mon. You know you want to.” He poked Freddy’s back again, enough times that Freddy had to shove him away, grumbling that, fine, he would go out, if that was what Billy wanted, as if his heart wasn’t pounding with glee at the thought. He needed it, too, after that humiliation at dinner. 

It always felt like an eternity before the house finally went quiet, even with only five occupants now. Freddy kept perfectly still in the bottom bunk, stretched out on his back, which was aching, as Billy hadn’t rubbed it for him yet tonight. They could do that later, as part of the comedown from flying, if Billy wasn’t too tired. Freddy felt guilty about it every time, both because it wasn’t Billy’s responsibility to take care of him like that and because Freddy was so touch-starved that he got a boner for it literally every time, but the pain relief it provided was too good, and he hadn’t refused Billy’s offer even once. 

If he was honest with himself, he could admit that he looked forward to those back rubs all day, every day. But generally he didn’t like to think about how much he liked it when Billy touched him, or how much Billy seemed to lean into their closeness in the same way he did. Neither of them were at all accustomed to being comfortably close to another person this way before they had each other, even with something as simple as sharing the bottom bunk while they watched videos on Freddy’s phone, shoulders touching. Freddy didn’t have to hear Billy say it out loud to know that it felt really fucking good for him to trust someone like that, too, though maybe not in the same way it did for Freddy. Or definitely not, he increasingly suspected.

“Ready?” Billy whispered when they’d both been lying there listening to each other breathe for at least ten minutes, the rest of the house silent at last. 

“Uh-huh,” Freddy said, already rolling out of bed and groping for his crutch. This was another thing to add to his list of stuff he wouldn’t let himself think about why he liked: Billy whispering _Ready?_ to him in a dark room, fuck.

Sneaking out was tricky, because they not only had to hide their activity from Rosa and Victor but also from Darla, who would want to join them if she knew what they were up to. They’d managed to talk her into keeping her powers hidden for now, because it was dangerous to go out and fight crime. They had her promise she wouldn’t use them again until she was fourteen, after starting with eighteen and allowing her to wheedle them down with the undeniable fact that they had both used their powers all the time at fourteen. As far as they could tell, she’d kept that promise, and they didn’t want to test the limits of her faithful adherence to their request by flashing their own powers around her. Of course she knew that they went out together, because the news reported on the activities of Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet from time to time, but it was still better to stay sneaky when they were crawling past her bedroom window as they made their way across the roof, toward the covered back patio, where they could shimmy down to the yard.

Billy always made his way down first and positioned himself to catch Freddy if necessary, and this necessity was embarrassingly frequent. Freddy’s gait was clumsy enough on solid ground, and the roof was like an obstacle course in the winter, icy and snow-choked. It wasn’t so bad by April, and that night he managed to make it down with just a stumbling, graceless dismount and not a full-on tumble into Billy’s waiting arms. Billy helped steady him once they were both standing, and Freddy avoided Billy’s eyes during this part of the process as usual, already impatient to be in his super-form, when he could move with fluid ease and do fucking somersaults through the sky if he wanted to. 

“We really could just call the lightning from the roof,” Billy said as he walked alongside Freddy toward one of ten randomly rotating transformation spots that they used in the neighborhood. “I mean, what’s the big difference if we go a few blocks or not?”

“Uhh, we’re not putting a supervillain target directly on the family home?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “I know that, but if someone was really determined to track us, it’s not that hard. We don’t change when we’re that far from home, and they could just watch for the lightning and then follow us back.”

“Obviously!” Freddy said. As if he hadn’t thought about this, god. “But the more caution, the better.”

“It’s not like there are that many supervillains interested in Philly, anyway.”

“Don’t say that!” Freddy whirled on Billy, wide-eyed. “Thinking that we’re in the clear is like wishing for Sivana to show back up.” He’d broken out of prison years ago, just a few months after they put him there, and hadn’t been seen since.

“Oh my god, way to overreact!” Billy said. “Why’re you so determined to be pissed off at me tonight?”

“I’m not!” If Billy said a word about prom, Freddy would die on the spot. He did not want to discuss it, at all. “I just don’t want to have this debate again, about where to transform. Consider the matter closed, okay?”

“Okay, fine! I’m just thinking of you.”

“Well, don’t.” Freddy walked faster, aching back be damned. “I’m fine with doing it like this. C’mon, try to keep up.”

Billy groaned at the dumb joke but let the subject drop. As soon as they were ducked into the backyard of their elderly neighbors who had a fenced-in pool, an area that was blessedly free of trees that the lightning might hit, Freddy stashed his crutch under the tarp on the old couple’s firewood pile and turned to face Billy, breathless from the exertion of getting here so fast and more than ready to feel like he could lift two cars over his head while blasting through the air.

“Want to do it together?” Billy asked. They had tried this recently and it had been kind of amazing, maybe too amazing, but Freddy just beamed hugely and nodded.

Freddy moved the hand he was using for balance from the stack of firewood to Billy’s shoulder, and Billy put his hands on Freddy’s waist. For one lunatic moment Freddy almost said something stupid about how it looked like they were trying to slow dance with each other, then he just started the countdown.

“Three, two--”

“One--”

“SHAZAM!”

They both screamed it at once, hands tightening on each other as they felt the transformation happen in a flash, moving against their palms like an electric current that kept running through them after they were in super-form, both of them laughing and already lifting off the ground, shooting up into the sky. Only when they were about a hundred feet up did they let go of each other. 

“That feels so crazy!” Billy shouted over the wind when they were flying at full speed, blasting toward the city. “It’s like-- When it’s just me, I can’t really feel anything, it just happens. But I feel it at the center of my chest, when it’s both of us. And even in my hands!” 

“It’s cool,” Freddy agreed, as if that word even began to cover it. The electric charge of their co-transformation was still thrumming through him, buzzing from his shoulders to his heels. “Where to, by the way?”

“Wherever, I don’t care. Let’s just fly around the city, see if we spot anything worth getting involved with.”

“Sure thing, race you there!”

Freddy never won these races. He was fast, but he didn’t have super speed on the same level that Billy and Darla did. He didn’t care, though, because what he did have was more than enough, and it felt good just to trail Billy through the sky on a warm-ish night like this, both of them unable to keep the giddy grins off their faces as they went as fast as they could. 

The city was peaceful that night, and after just twenty minutes of flying around watching the streets below with Billy at his side, Freddy would have sworn the whole world was. Still, they kept an eye on things, and ended up helping a guy who was stranded on the side of the highway with a flat tire. Victor had taught them how to change one the summer before.

“I feel kinda rude having you guys do this,” the guy said. “Or wasteful, or something.”

“Nah, it’s legit,” Freddy assured him. “You’re a citizen in mild distress. If somebody was in medium distress, we’d ditch you to help them, don’t worry.”

The guy laughed, and Freddy felt glowy with pride just from having said something semi-funny. Nobody laughed at his snarky comments when he didn’t appear to be a strapping young man wearing a cape and floating a foot off the ground, except Billy of course, and sometimes Darla. 

The guy insisted on giving them a token of appreciation for their trouble after they’d replaced his tire, and all he had on him was a bag of Twizzlers. They accepted it, sensing that he needed to assuage his guilt at using the resources of two superheroes to get out of a minor bind, and also because they liked Twizzlers. They flew up to the roof of an apartment building that overlooked a park that was sometimes crime-ridden and sat up there eating the Twizzlers and keeping an eye on things down below.

“Have you felt any gut-tugs lately?” Freddy asked. That was the name they’d given to what they both hoped was a developing new superpower, a sense of knowing where the danger in the city was and being inexplicably pulled there just in time. They weren’t sure it was a real thing and not just a handful of incidents when they’d gotten lucky. Usually they needed police sirens to tip them off. They’d experimented with a social media account for anonymous tips, but it hadn’t worked at all. The tips they got were either pranks, attempts by villains to entrap them, or things better dealt with by the law and/or social services.

“I don’t think so,” Billy said after he’d considered the question. “I wish.”

“I know.” Freddy squirmed in place a little. “I hate thinking that if I just could have been there for someone, in the right place at the right time, if I’d just known where to go--”

“Yeah,” Billy said. This went without saying and was something that bugged both of them, especially Billy and especially during the school day, when he would watch the clock, his heel bouncing crazily under his desk, and get yelled at by teachers for not paying attention while he sat there thinking, _What if someone out there needs help, right now? And I’m here wasting my time listening to a lecture about things that happened two hundred years ago?_

They’d talked about this a lot, and Freddy was sorry for bringing it up on such a carefree evening. Billy got quiet, and shook his head when Freddy offered more Twizzlers. 

“Even Superman doesn’t have that kind of telepathy,” Freddy said, hoping this would console Billy, who knew Superman, sort of. Superman was a hard person to claim to know, as he kind of existed in his own world. He was friendly when Freddy met him that one time, thanks to Billy, but was definitely of another world, looking on at humanity through a special lens. 

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this prom thing,” Billy said, out of nowhere. He was looking down at the park below, his jaw tight and his hands squeezed over his thighs like he was tensed for a fight. “She just dumped it in my lap and gave me this big-eyed, hopeful look, and I didn’t know what to do. God, I have to pay for this stupid tux rental. A bunch of teenagers wearing tuxedos and evening gowns. Freakin’ ridiculous.” 

“Nothing worse than teenagers dressed up in ridiculous costumes,” Freddy said, tugging on Billy’s cape. 

Billy didn’t laugh, just sat there looking kinda morose or maybe nervous. He glanced over at Freddy and did the lip-chewing thing that Freddy liked too much, especially when Billy looked like this: big and strong and grown-up, but worried, too. It was a strangely wonderful combination, one that gut-tugged at Freddy in a way that had nothing to do with sensing danger. Though, then again-- Danger was definitely involved 

“I don’t like her friends,” Billy said. “And we’re all going together in this big limo. Ugh. Why did I agree to this?”

“Well, presumably because you like her,” Freddy said, forcing a light tone of voice while dying inside, because in that moment, on top of a building with the taste of Twizzlers in his mouth and his cape billowing out behind him, he was coming to sudden, nausea-inducing terms with the fact that he was fucked, or fucked up, or both, because when he looked Billy, now and frankly all the time-- He wanted-- Oh, shit. 

The time for denying it was abruptly past. He felt like a supervillain, harboring a horrible secret, but there was no pretending anymore, at least not to himself.

“Yeah, I like her,” Billy said. “She’s-- Yeah. It’ll be fine.” 

“Totally!” Freddy hopped up, fake cheerful, and teetered for a moment on the edge of the roof, laughing at himself when Billy flinched as if to catch him. “Forgot how to fly for a second there,” Freddy said, floating now. “Or, that I even could, um. Let’s go!”

“Where?” Billy asked.

Freddy was already blasting off with no destination in mind, trusting Billy would follow. He did, and Freddy had to think: for how long? There were lady superheroes out there. Billy already knew some of them. He’d kissed at least one of them while in Shazam form, Freddy had learned, through gossip websites that followed superhero rumors and not from Billy himself. The hero he’d kissed was a Teen Titan, like Robin, whom Billy had some burgeoning friendship with, though he also claimed Robin was a weirdo. Still, they had hung out that one time, without Freddy. He’d had a big test the next day and had skipped the patrol, so of course all this cool stuff had happened. Just his luck, really.

They didn’t stay out long after that, and when they were back in their bedroom after transforming, Freddy waved Billy away when he tried to give him the nightly backrub. 

“Too tired,” Freddy said, scooting toward the wall and out of reach. “And, you know, transforming helps. I always feel better anyway, after being in the other body.”

“Yeah?” Billy said. He sounded skeptical.

Nope. This was a total lie, and one that might cost Freddy backrubs all summer long if he doubled down on it.

“Yep,” he said anyway, smashing his eyes shut, turned away from Billy and wishing he’d just give up, also wishing for so many other things that he was dizzy from it, knowing he wouldn’t get them. “So, just. Really tired. G’night.”

“Night.”

Freddy had trouble getting to sleep that night, lying there hating himself for the few hot tears that escaped his pinched-shut eyes, dribbling over the bridge of his nose and onto the sheets. He almost never cried. He prided himself on it, because with everything that was wrong with him, now including being in love with his straight best friend, where would crying ever get him? He wiped his face and tried so hard to sleep, or at least to stop thinking about Billy dancing with Stacey at the stupid fucking prom, because what difference did it make? He told himself that he should be glad that there was no chance Billy would ever want him like that, because boy would that complicate things, and their lives were complicated enough. 

He finally managed to get to sleep after he'd allowed himself to fantasize about Billy dropping down to the bottom bunk and flattening him to the mattress with kisses. Only when he was near delirious with exhaustion did he offer his weather-beaten mind the crumbs of this one thing that would soothe it into turning off enough to rest.

In the morning he tried to mentally backtrack, desperate to not have realized what he’d finally admitted to himself the night before. He avoided looking at Billy as much as possible, focused on his work at school, and resisted the urge to snarl at all the posters advertising prom that seemed to suddenly be everywhere. 

It almost worked, and during dinner he told himself he’d just been having a moment on top of that building, confusing his closeness with Billy for something it wasn’t, and he felt a little lighter by the time he was sitting on the kitchen counter next to the sink while Billy took his turn to do the dishes, sleeves rolled up and a single cowlick hanging over his forehead while he concentrated on some particular bit of sticky stuff that clung to a baking pan, frowning a little and scraping at it with the hard plastic backing of the dish scrubber, determined and kind of adorably focused on this task, biting his bottom lip.

And oh, no. No, Freddy was completely fucked. Because he was staring, cataloging every detail of Billy in this moment and finding them all perfect, also easily as impressive as the Shazam-version of Billy when he plunged fearlessly into battle, just because Billy was here, washing a dish, existing at all, and Freddy was so in love with him that he felt like he’d melt down into nothing from the intensity of it, which was burning him up from the inside out. 

That night, when Billy sat on Freddy’s bed and reached for him, Freddy didn’t protest the routine back rub. He just lay there holding in all the noises he wanted to make, stock stiff against the mattress and feeling like he was trapped between a rock and a hard place, too literally.

“Man, you’re really tense,” Billy said, pushing his elbow into the knot in Freddy’s back in the way that felt so good, too good, Freddy was going to lose his whole mind and make some awful noise of gurgled pleasure. “You okay?” Billy asked, putting more of his weight into this elbow massage technique. 

“Nnnhf,” Freddy said, face buried in his blankets, and Billy laughed.

The following night was Saturday: prom night. Freddy wanted to be a brat and refuse when Rosa insisted on taking a picture with him and fully tuxedo’d Billy, but he had no real reason not to stand there next to Billy and pretend to smile, feeling overheated under his sagging Superman t-shirt because of the way Billy looked, also because of his deep, private misery about everything that was currently happening, and just-- Because. Freddy would later see these pictures and laugh hysterically at how frightful he looked, like someone who was asked to smile for the camera on the way to being marched to the gallows.

Movie night transpired as it usually did when Billy was out being a teenager with an actual social life. Freddy refilled the popcorn bowl and smiled dutifully at Darla’s comments on the developments onscreen. He tried not to get stupidly emotional over how much the hero in _The Rocketeer_ reminded him of Billy, probably because anything would at that point but also because of the way his hair cowlicked over his forehead at times, the way he fell into his power without warning then rose to the occasion, and the fact that he had a stunning girlfriend with long, black hair like Stacey’s. 

Freddy went to bed as soon as the movie was over, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He tried watching YouTube videos of Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet in action together, but they just made him feel pathetic in his current form, as if the confident guy wearing the blue costume in these videos wasn’t really him. He considered going out alone, transforming without Billy and patrolling the city, being useful. He almost never went out by himself, and was embarrassed by his reluctance to do it. He wasn’t scared, exactly, so he wasn’t sure what was stopping him. Maybe it was just the thought of falling off the patio roof before he could hobble away from the house to transform, without Billy there to catch him, and having to make up some lie about why he was trying to sneak out when Rosa and Victor ran out, horrified, to find him sprawled helpless on his back in the yard. 

Now he was really throwing himself a full-on pity party. It wasn’t like him, and he told himself that being in unrequited love would _not_ be the thing that turned him from an unflappable optimist into a sad sack who wallowed in his own misery on a Saturday night. He turned to some reliably comforting yet boring Twitch streams and watched them until his eyelids felt heavy. He knew how to take care of his goddamn self, and often that meant just not obsessing over the painful shit that he had to deal with. It was there, sure, hurting, but he was strong enough to bear it and had been all along. He closed his eyes and sank into sleep at some point, successful in slipping away from the unchangeable thing that was hurting him yet again. 

He woke up an indeterminable amount of time later to Billy collapsing into bed beside him and huffing beer-scented breath near his ear, tugging at his shoulder. 

“Freddy,” Billy said, eyes half-closed when Freddy turned toward him, feeling like he was in a dream. “R’you awake?”

“Are you drunk?” Freddy whispered back, heart already hammering as his mind came back online, slowly processing that this was actually happening. 

“Nn,” Billy said, and he closed his eyes, laughed, then moaned. “I dunno, not really. Maybe? I had two beers. Three? No, two. Two and a half.”

Freddy just stared at Billy in sleepy disbelief, kind of hating him at the moment, which unfortunately did nothing to stop his also being in love with him. 

“And before that,” Billy said, opening his eyes to lock his gaze on Freddy’s, “Before, earlier, actually, I, uh. Had sex, for the first time, tonight. So.” He swallowed, for some reason looking like he was going to cry. “That happened.”

“Oh.” Freddy realized hazily that Billy was going through something, needed him. He rolled toward Billy and touched his shoulder, squeezing it. “With Stacey?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“Sooo. Are you okay?”

Billy laughed, which somehow made him seem less okay. His eyes were glittery with not-quite tears.

“Yeah, man. I’m. Yes, yeah. Just. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Freddy felt the first stab of his oncoming heartbreak and beat it back for now, because Billy was-- Something, messed up, and his heartbreak could wait. “What’s wrong?”

“Umm, just.” Billy pinched his eyes shut and then opened them again, lashes fluttering. “It was good, it was really good, she told me she wanted to do it and I was like, yes, oh man, let’s-- And she’s so hot, and really smart and funny, she’s so great.”

“Uh-huh,” Freddy said, possibly gripping Billy’s shoulder too hard after hearing this.

“But, um. Like, after? I was thinking, you know. I don’t, like. Love her, I’m not in love with this girl. And I don’t think she-- It was good! We both liked it. I mean, it was fast, but she didn’t complain about that. We kissed, and. But I don’t love her.”

“So?” Freddy said, trying to hide his massive yet pointless relief. “I mean, unless you lied and told her you do?”

“No! No, I didn’t say anything like that. We’ve only even been going out for a few weeks.”

“Did she say she loves you?”

“No.”

“Sooo. You’re freaking out, though? Why are you freaking out? Are you just drunk? Maybe you should go to sleep.”

“No! I’m not, I just-- I had two beers.”

“Two and a half, I heard.”

Billy moaned and sat up, putting his hands over his face. Freddy tucked the hand he’d had on Billy’s shoulder back against his own chest. His heart was still beating very fast. Something was happening, maybe. It was probably bad, but he would wait and see. 

“Am I like my dad?” Billy asked, his voice near-breaking in a way that made Freddy sit up and move closer, just short of hugging him. “I mean my biological dad, the-- This guy who just-- I’m like him, aren’t I?”

“Huh? Of course you’re not! Why would you--”

“Because I just did this to do it, and, like. Aren’t you supposed to love the first person you fuck? I mean, have sex with? Make love to?”

Freddy wrinkled his nose and suppressed an extremely inappropriate nervous laugh.

“I guess it depends?” he said, still confused. “Depends on what you, uhh, want out of the sex? I mean, personally, yeah, I would want to wait till I loved someone. But--”

“I wanted that, too, I think!” Billy put his hands over his face again and cursed, shaking his head. “Fuck, I’m so stupid. And I liked it! While we were-- It was great, felt great. But after. Shit, I should have waited until-- I’m just like him, Freddy. I really think I am.”

“Who?”

“C.C.! My dad!”

“Oh my god, no, you’re not! Billy--”

“Shh, don’t try to make me feel better! You always do! Freddy, what-- What if she gets pregnant?”

Freddy could feel his eyes bugging out of his skull, cartoon character-like.

“You didn’t wear a condom?” he said, almost too loud. 

“What-- No! Of course I did!”

“Then, what, why--? How would she get pregnant?”

“I don’t know!” Billy groaned and collapsed onto his back again, chest heaving. Only then did Freddy realize he was still wearing most of his tuxedo, minus the jacket and tie, the dress shirt unbuttoned halfway. Billy gave Freddy a nervous glance, still breathing hard. “I was thinking,” he said, voice small, “What if my sperm, like. Has super strength, or some other weird magical property, and it morphed right through the condom--”

“Oh my god!” Freddy said, his raging jealous heart pounding so suddenly hard that he felt sure it would kill him, because: “You fucked her as Red Cyclone??!”

“No!” Billy frowned and then guffawed. Freddy almost hit him, but refrained. “What-- No, of course I didn’t.”

“Then why the hell would you have super condom-defying sperm?” 

“I don’t freaking know man, it’s my first time doing this! I don’t know what to expect or how the powers might factor in!” 

“Okay, no,” Freddy said, laughing with relief. “I’m pretty sure your powers won’t factor into your dick’s functionality unless you scream the S-word when you finish. Which, wow, that would be embarrassing.”

Freddy had very recently fantasized about Billy doing just this, and all other manner of things he might do combining sex and powers. His face was hot. Billy was staring up at him, looking annoyed now. It was an improvement over how he’d looked before, which was guilt-ridden and self-hating.

“Sue me,” Billy said. “I’m paranoid about getting girls pregnant. Don’t want to follow my dad’s lead and bring another unwanted child into the world.”

It gut-tugged at Freddy to hear Billy implying that any part of him was still unwanted. Because he was so wanted. Freddy felt like he could power a whole planet with how much he wanted Billy.

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that,” Freddy said, deciding it was now or never.

“No?” Billy said. He gave Freddy a cautious look, like he already knew what Freddy was about to confess, because of course he did. Billy didn’t have to know the whole, awful truth to know this one part of it, which was probably obvious. 

“Nah, not into girls,” Freddy said. He looked down at Billy’s chest, noticed his breathing had calmed, then met his gaze again. Billy’s was soft, accepting. “Girls are pretty and everything, I get it, but I don’t want to personally like, engage carnally.”

Billy snorted. He looked relieved, or maybe Freddy just felt relieved and was projecting. 

“I guess I only have to worry part time,” Billy said. “So that’s something.”

“Huh?”

“I mean about pregnancy, uhh. Because I like both.”

“Both.”

“Guys, too.”

“Wait-- What? Since when?”

“I dunno, since always? I just kinda always knew.”

“So.” Freddy felt frozen between giddy joy that he still had no real reason to feel and a corresponding dread, because this of course opened up a whole new way for him to feel rejected, jealous, whatever. “How come you only date girls, then?” he asked.

“Only girls have ever asked me out.” 

“Oh.” 

Freddy looked away, at anything and everything in the room that wasn’t Billy’s face. When he could feel Billy staring at him he flopped onto his back and kept his gaze directed straight up at the top bunk, where Billy would normally be at this hour of the night. He couldn’t stand how close the sound of Billy’s breathing was, and also desperately didn’t want him to relocate to his own bed, not yet. So much of what he felt for Billy was like this: it was too intense, too hard to bear with what felt like just a hair’s breadth between how close they were and how close he wanted them to be, but also not enough, ever.

“Roll over,” Billy said, nudging him. “I’ll do your back.”

“You don’t have to.” Because were they seriously going to jump right to that after they just came out to each other in the middle of the night? Really, that was Billy’s plan?

“I do have to,” Billy said, still prodding at him. “I can’t freaking live with the thought that nobody’s doing this for you when they should be. And I’m glad it’s me, okay?”

Freddy rolled over onto his stomach, mostly just to hide his stupid grin. What was happening? Nothing, nothing. The usual. He closed his eyes and listened to the fabric-rustle of Billy pulling off his button-up shirt and dress pants, then both being tossed onto the floor. 

“Prom was so lame,” Billy said, leaning behind Freddy and pushing up his T-shirt to find the place where he was always sore from gripping the crutch, the knot that needed to be worked on nightly. “I mean, I guess we had fun after.”

Freddy snorted, that little surge of mild heartbreak washing over him again. “Yeah, sounds like it.”

“Ha, ha. No, I mean. Whatever. You’re lucky you didn’t go. I felt dumb the whole time. You ever feel like we’re already grown up? Because of the powers? And, just. How things were for us as kids, too? Having to watch our own backs in all those shitty situations, before we ended up here? The kids at school all seem so immature and spoiled. The supposedly cool ones, anyway. Even Stacey, sorta.”

“Mhmm,” Freddy said, halfway hiding the moan he wanted to unleash in this noise of vague agreement, because god it felt good, not just Billy touching him but the fact that he knew exactly how to do it to bring the most relief, with the perfect pace and pressure and combination of thumb, elbow, and palm. He was basically an expert after six months or so of following this routine. 

“I think that’s why I can’t be in love with her,” Billy said, sounding less torn up about it now. “She doesn’t-- She can’t really get me. She can’t even know me, not really.”

“Oh. So, what? You wish you could tell her about Red Cyclone, so she could know you?”

“Eh. No, not really. And it’s not just that. She doesn’t get it about my regular life either. She asks these questions, sometimes, and it’s like she thinks it’s cute, or _interesting_ , or attractive, or something, that I had a shitty childhood. Like it’s a novelty, and not, like, my actual life. You ever have people act that way with you?”

“No, nobody ever acts like I’m cute or attractive for any reason.”

“Oh, shut up.” Billy laughed a little and pressed harder against the knot, as if to scold him for that. “They do, too. You just don’t see it.”

“Bullshit, like who?”

“I don’t keep a list! But I’m sure-- Just, stop being so down on yourself and moping around here like you’re a hopeless case. You could be like you are as Blue Bullet all the time, if you wanted.” 

“Not really.” Freddy wasn’t sure if he was annoyed by that comment or not. He loved talking like this, late at night, while Billy rubbed tight circles into his back and unwound the knot. “Blue Bullet has a few attributes that I don’t, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“He’s still you! And there’s more to it than the powers. You should show people how funny you are, you know, when we’re hanging out. You get so quiet, unless it’s just the two of us.”

“If I talk I’ll start rambling about obscure superhero shit and they’ll stare at me like I have two heads, and like both heads are talking too much. Oh, and, by the way, benevolent giver of sage social advice, you barely ever say shit to anyone at school yourself, hello? It just doesn’t matter with you, because they fawn over you anyway. You just have to sit there in silence and they decide you’re cool and mysterious.”

Billy laughed, which felt like an admittance that this was true. Laughing brought his face down close to Freddy’s back, and for a moment he pressed his forehead between Freddy’s shoulder blades, sighing there.  

“Who cares about any of that shit, anyway,” Billy said, lifting his head and moving his hands down to rub at the small of Freddy’s back. “I can’t wait for school to be over.” 

“College will be much better,” Freddy said, imagining all the freedom they’d have, starting with the lack of a need to sneak out to transform. 

“I’m not doing college,” Billy said. His hands went still for a moment, like he was bracing himself for Freddy’s tirade. They had talked about this before, of course. Freddy still figured Billy would come around to his view on college eventually. 

“We’re still gonna need jobs,” Freddy said, really too tired to get into it. “Can’t just go around zapping ATMs for rent money like some low-level supervillains.”

“You can get a job without college.”

“Oh, god, whatever, fine.” 

Freddy supposed they could still share an apartment. No big deal. Billy would probably change his mind by senior year, anyway. College would be cool, fun, totally better than high school with these boring same kids they’d been in school with for years. Freddy already had a few schools picked out and had been researching application requirements. He was taking the SAT next month, had inherited Mary’s old prep books.

Thinking about the future made all of the evening’s earlier misery lift from Freddy’s shoulders, especially when he factored in Billy being there with him, the two of them growing ever closer to being their super-looking selves full time. He sighed happily into the blankets when Billy continued rubbing his back, realizing how tired he was only when he considered that for the first time in a while, despite everything, he hadn’t gotten a secret boner for this.

At some point he fell asleep, and when he woke up he felt warm and comfortable in his own skin in a way that usually didn’t happen unless he was Blue Bullet. He felt bigger, he realized, because he wasn’t alone in the bed. Billy was pressed up against him from behind and sleeping against his back. He’d tugged Freddy onto his side and had his arm tucked across Freddy’s chest, thighs pushed up snug against his. Half-awake and reeling with cozy astonishment, Freddy rapidly switched from feeling bigger to smaller, with Billy curved around him like a protective outer shell. 

He wanted desperately to stay awake, to hold onto this feeling in his conscious mind and enjoy every second of it, but he was too sleepy, and too perfectly content with the swell of Billy’s chest pressing against his back with every inhale, soothing him back into a comfortable sleep that he couldn’t fight free from. He at least managed to lift his hand up to cover Billy’s and give his fingers a tired squeeze. Billy’s legs flexed against his as if in answer, and Freddy thought, is he awake? He fell asleep again himself before he could decide.  

In the morning, he woke up alone in the bottom bunk to the sound of Darla’s footsteps thundering through the hallway outside, probably answering the call of Sunday morning pancakes. Freddy rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes, wondering if he’d only dreamed the whole thing: Billy coming home two-and-a-half-beers tipsy, getting into bed with him and confessing various things, then holding him like he was drawing some much needed comfort from the shape of Freddy hugged tight against him. At which point had reality segued into some near-perfect dream Freddy had? 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed his crutch, standing to check the top bunk. Billy was there, asleep, facing the wall. His prom clothes were scattered across the floor, and Freddy did remember that happening, but that was the kind of thing that could have happened in both reality and a dream. 

And the rest of it? Freddy rolled his shoulders. His back felt okay, even good. As if he’d had a particularly long and thorough treatment the night before. 

He thought of waking Billy up, poking him and whispering, did last night actually happen? Did you tell me that you were afraid your dick was too powerful for the average condom and then confess that you’re attracted to guys, too? He decided against it and dressed to go down to breakfast, leaving Billy asleep.

Freddy was spacey at breakfast, missing bits of conversation and watching the stairs for any sign of Billy. 

“What time did Billy get home last night?” Rosa asked, having to repeat the question after Freddy didn’t hear her the first time. 

“I’m not sure,” Freddy answered truthfully. Way too much had been happening for him to bother looking at the clock on their desk. “Not too late, I don’t think.” 

“Sounds like he’s arisen,” Victor said when they heard Freddy and Billy’s bedroom door creak open upstairs. Then the bathroom door shut, and the shower turned on.

“I hope he had a magical time!” Darla said, dreamily tapping a piece of bacon against her bottom lip and looking at Freddy for the answer.

Freddy shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.” 

He waited for Victor or Rosa to call him out on having heard the report already, because he and Billy definitely weren’t careful enough about keeping their voices down when they talked last night, but neither of them said anything. Maybe they thought Freddy was still depressed about prom and not having gone himself. He actually felt better than he had in months, though still on edge and anxious for Billy to come down and give him some signal that it was all real. Even if it never happened again, Freddy wanted to hold on to his memories of it with both hands, and he cursed himself internally for not managing to stay awake and revel for hours in the feeling of Billy pressed against him like that, holding on tight.  

Billy came downstairs twenty or so minutes later, hair still damp. The outfit he'd dressed in suggested he didn’t have a shift at the hardware store that day or any plans for going out: sweatpants and a vintage Batman shirt he’d stolen from Freddy’s collection. Though Freddy had filled out some, slowly, the shirt still hung pretty loose on him. It admittedly looked a lot better on Billy, form-fitting and tight around the uppermost bulge of his biceps. Freddy forced himself to stop staring and redirected his gaze to his syrup-sticky plate, wondering if Billy wearing the shirt this morning was some kind of sign. It was still technically Freddy’s shirt, for one, and they had joked before that if they combined their last names they would be the Batman family. 

“Here comes the prom king at last,” Victor said. “Just in time for the last batch of pancakes.” 

“Oh my gosh, were you really prom king?” Darla asked, spinning around and grabbing the back of her chair, gaping at Billy as if he was suddenly a celebrity.

Billy snorted and shook his head.

“No,” he said, sitting beside Darla. “He’s just kidding.” He cut his eyes to Freddy’s in a shy little peek that felt like a lightning bolt, fast and sharp, both really good and scary as shit.

“Aw,” Darla said. “Well, that’s okay! Did you have the best time ever?”

“It was all right.”

“Just all right?” Rosa said, turning from the stove with concern. 

“I mean, I had fun.” Billy gave Freddy another quick, bashful glance, and Freddy felt like he’d been set on fire by the lightning bolt from Billy’s eyes this time, but he didn’t mind. “I wouldn’t do it again, though,” Billy said.

“No?” Rosa said, walking over to put her hand on his shoulder. “Why not?”

“Uhh, just the whole pageant-type thing, with the dress-up clothes and the limousines, it all felt kinda embarrassing. And I don’t really like dancing.” 

“Oh, what’s wrong with you!” Darla said. “All that stuff sounds great to me.” 

“Before you know it you’ll be going to your own prom,” Rosa said, and she gave Victor a wistful look that Freddy noticed. He’d wondered but hadn’t dared to ask why they hadn’t taken in any new foster kids in recent years. He knew both of them had been a little shaken by Eugene’s adoption, though happy for him. 

Freddy had been shaken, too. He’d had awful, recurring nightmares around that time, about the other kids having relatives who came out of the woodwork and reclaimed them all one by one, Billy’s mother included. She hadn’t moved since he’d found her, and Billy helped her out as Red Cyclone sometimes, with very minor problems like carrying heavy shopping bags from the subway stop to her apartment. She didn’t know that Red Cyclone was also her son, and almost definitely thought he was a weird pseudo-stalker, but she hadn’t told him to get lost yet. 

Billy didn’t think Freddy knew about this, and the fact that he’d kept it a secret made Freddy nervous about the possibility of those two reconciling and Billy disappearing from his life. Meanwhile, Freddy’s only living relatives were his father, still in jail, and a grandmother who wanted nothing to do with him because he was damaged goods and an expensive charge. Freddy’s father had gotten his winning personality from her, he assumed. He hadn’t seen the guy since he was five and barely remembered him. 

“Freddy, baby, it’ll be your birthday soon,” Rosa said, maybe having noticed the mood he was sinking into, or thinking he needed a pick-me-up after missing the prom on account of being dateless. “Any special requests for the big day?”

“Do you think Mary and Pedro could come home for it?” Freddy asked, knowing this was probably not possible. 

“Mhm, I’ll check with them, but they’re both pretty far away and they have finals coming up, same as you guys. How’s that going, by the way?” 

She looked from Freddy to Billy, who was occasionally known to straight up flunk a class, which was a sensitive subject. Billy was smart, but his resentment of having to suffer through school at all got in the way of him paying attention in class, giving a crap about his homework, or doing well on tests when the time came. 

“You guys planning to study today?” Rosa asked when neither of them responded.

“Sure,” Billy said, eyes on his plate.

“Definitely!” Freddy said. He gave Billy an anxious glance, and Billy didn’t return this one. “We’ll, uh. We’ll get right on that after breakfast.” 

“Like it’s you who’s got to worry about passing your finals or not,” Billy said with an insincere smile, eyes still downcast. 

“Tests are a pain,” Victor said. “Let us know if we can help, uh. Make flashcards or something.” 

“Hey, I know what we should do for your birthday,” Billy said, glancing up at Freddy. 

“Yeah?” Freddy said, cautious, though he knew Billy was probably just trying to change the subject. 

“We could take the train to New York and go to that comic shop you’re obsessed with.” 

“All of us?” Darla said, brightening. 

“Mhm, sure,” Billy said, in a way that made it pretty obvious he’d only meant to include himself and Freddy this plan. “Or, me and Freddy could do that during the day, and then we could all go to Rocko’s for dinner together that night.” 

“We always go to Rocko’s for everyone’s birthday,” Darla said, whining a little. 

“That’s why I like it!” Freddy said, sincerely. All this corny family stuff meant a lot to him and always would. “It’s tradition. We definitely have to go there, yeah. And, uh, yeah, could me and Billy take the train to the city?” he asked, giving Rosa and then Victor a pleading look. “I’ll be seventeen!” he added when they exchanged an uncertain glance. “That’s like, way old enough to take a day trip by train.”

“I’m sixteen and that’s also old enough,” Billy added, giving them his charmingest smile, finals angst apparently forgotten. “Also I’m basically seventeen, too. In two months.” 

“Aw, I think it’s fine,” Victor said when Rosa gave him a shrug to signal she thought the same. “We’ll even give you some birthday money for comics,” he added, winking at Freddy.

Freddy was in a good mood for the rest of the day, despite the fact that it was mostly occupied with studying. Billy spent the whole day at his side, pretending to concentrate on his own exam prep and interrupting Freddy’s every few minutes to show him some new funny thing on his phone. Freddy didn’t mind the distractions at all, though he did worry about Billy passing his classes. They were sitting close together on the living room couch, and Billy’s hair had dried hours ago but still smelled really good. Neither of them had mentioned anything about the night before, even after Victor left for his shift and Rosa disappeared upstairs to help Darla make a poster for an end of year school project.

They were watching a video of a dog comically slapping his owner in the face when a text popped up on the screen. It was from Stacey. Freddy didn’t even pretend not to read it, and Billy didn’t move the phone away. 

The text said: _Last night was fun_ , followed by a kissy face emoji.

“What do I say in response?” Billy asked, giving Freddy a panicked look.

Freddy sputtered a laugh and reared backward in disbelief.

“You’re asking _me_? Because I’m so smooth with the ladies?”

Billy rolled his eyes and looked back at the phone’s screen with what appeared to be trepidation.

“Just play hard to get by not responding,” Freddy suggested.

“No, that’s mean.”

Freddy felt bad, because Billy was right. This was, however, further proof that Freddy knew nothing about how to handle girls or dating in general, and should not be consulted.

“Was it her, uh--” Freddy glanced toward the stairs. “First time, too? Last night?”

Billy shook his head. “She used to go out with Kyle Minsler,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Well, I don’t know!” Freddy said, exasperated when Billy gave him another look that begged for guidance. “Just say you had fun, too, and you’ll see her at school tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Billy said, already typing.

Freddy snorted. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I just always find some way to accidentally make girls angry at me, no matter what I do. Then I get annoyed by them being angry and blow them off. Then I feel bad, but I also don’t miss them, so.”

“Geez, that’s cold.” Freddy smirked when Billy gave him a worried look. “Kidding. I think it’s pretty normal, for teenagers. Though what do I know. Anyway, uh. You want to keep this one, is what you’re saying? This girl?”

“I just want her to still like me until the end of the school year, so there’s no weird drama, since finals are gonna suck well enough on their own. But after school lets out you and me will be too busy patrolling for me to waste time with any of this dumb stuff. Right?”

Freddy wanted to say: sex is a dumb waste of time, suddenly? But he knew what Billy really meant. The dates, and hand-holding on walks through the park, even texting. It was all frivolous compared to the amazing summer they were going to have as superheroes. 

“Right,” he said, and then, feeling bold, he poked Billy’s side. “Nice shirt, by the way.” 

Billy looked up from the phone and smirked at him. Freddy felt it in his gut: the tug, deep down and really strong. In this case it was pulling him toward Billy. He stayed perfectly still, didn’t even blink. 

“It fits me better,” Billy said, flexing his shoulders. “Hey, that’s what we should do in New York, screw comics. You need a new wardrobe.”

“Right, I’m sure the forty bucks Victor is gonna give me for comics will go a long way on Fifth Avenue.” 

“I’m not talking about fancy shit, obviously. Just some new comic-themed shirts that fit you, even. The comic store will have those.” 

Freddy groaned. “Yeah, I guess it’s about time I start showing off my amazing physique.”

“It’s comin’ along,” Billy said. He tossed his phone aside and got up, stretching his arms overhead so that the Batman shirt pulled up to show a strip of bare skin. Billy’s stomach and sides were all flat, smooth muscle, and Freddy was pretty sure he was showing off, but for who? Him? “C’mon,” Billy said, offering his hand. “Enough studying. Let’s go work out. I’m tired of your whining about how skinny you are.” 

They had inherited all of Pedro’s old weight-lifting stuff, and Pedro’s bedroom was basically their gym while he was away at college. It was warm enough that afternoon that they left the window open, and through it Freddy could smell spring maturing into its final blush, with his birthday just around the corner. Summer was inching closer every day, and Freddy wanted to roll around in his various feelings of gleeful anticipation as if they were field of wildflowers, but he schooled himself not to anticipate anything too wild. Last night was just a nice memory, brought on by two and a half beers and Billy getting emotional about not wanting to turn into his father, as if that was even a slim possibility. The looks across the breakfast table were probably just embarrassment-related, since Billy had blabbed about his sex life, again on account of those beers. Talking about sex was new for them, that was all. Maybe Freddy could get okay with hearing things like that in the future, and well-accustomed to cauterizing the emotional wounds they would leave on him. Maybe he’d build up some kind of protective scar tissue, even.

Things weren’t going to change in the way that he wanted. He told himself he had to know that from the start and get okay with it, because his feelings about Billy were beyond inappropriate, way out of line, totally pie in the sky impossible for turning into anything beyond pathetic fantasies--

“What is with you?” Billy asked, tugging on one of Freddy’s sweaty curls to get his attention after he’d wandered too far into internal panic land. “You’re like a zombie today.”

“Somebody kept me up last night,” Freddy said before he could think about how that would sound, as if he was actually complaining.

Billy’s eyes did that sad thing that Freddy couldn’t bear when he was the cause. He put the hand weight he’d been mindlessly pumping down and stood, breathless.

“Just kidding, I loved it,” he blurted, again not really thinking, meaning to say this about the way they had talked, also the back rub. 

Billy’s smile came slowly, first in his eyes and then tugging up at the corner of his lips.

“Me too,” he said, softly enough that Freddy knew he meant the whole thing, sleep-cuddling included, that it had all been real, not just a dream and not nothing to Billy, and that this meant Freddy was even bigger trouble than he’d thought because oh holy shit.

Not that he minded being in trouble. It was what heroes lived for, really.

 

**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all who are reading, the comments on the first two chapters made me so happy! I'm in love with this story negl and am working on it nonstop, so I wouldn't be surprised if the next chapter is done in a few more days, especially since it's one I'm really looking forward to writing. Writing this one completely consumed me for the past few days, and it was wonderful~  
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **

Rathbun’s bar looks even more run-down and scummy in person than it did in the few images Freddy was able to find online. It’s a bare bones little shack of a place sitting alone and almost unadvertised on a particularly desolate stretch of highway in the northwestern corner of the state, heavy forest surrounding the road on all sides. Freddy’s car is the only one on this stretch of highway when he signals his turn into the bar’s small parking lot. He cranes his neck over the dash and wonders which of the three junky cars already parked there belongs to CK. Something tells him it’s the ancient pickup truck, and he pictures a ranting, elderly conspiracy theorist with missing teeth who will have about as much useful information for him as any of the Superman-obsessed wackjobs who post their evidence-free theories about what happened online. 

It’s five minutes to eleven o’clock when he parks and turns off the car, and his heart is hammering, because this informant is just as likely to be a villain who’s trying to draw him out as he is a delusional but harmless fraud. Freddy is wearing his unstylish, comically oversized trench coat over his Blue Bullet costume, since he was nowhere near comfortable coming here without his powers readily on hand. CK contacted him as Freddy Freeman, not Blue Bullet, and he can’t risk letting even a peek of the costume show unless this turns into a life or death situation, but he has the unsettling feeling that CK knows exactly who he is anyway, as both a layperson and a superhero. 

It’s not a great feeling, especially as he gets out of the car and heads toward the bar’s dingy front door to confront this mysterious figure in person for the first time. So far as he can tell from the outside, the bar has no windows. He braces himself for a fight just in case this is a setup, though based on a few not-glowing reviews online, the bar at least seems to be a real one that has been here for years. It took him almost five hours to drive out here from the city, and he’s not looking forward to the long drive home, already thinking about crashing at a motel on the way back. 

He makes his way into the dimly lit bar, his eyes adjusting to the light in a single blink thanks to his powers. There’s one man sitting at a table in back, alone, with his back to the door. The only other patrons are two older men who are hunched at the bartop, sipping from beer cans. Freddy walks in, careful to make sure his feet stay on the ground. He’s not accustomed to just casually walking around, in this body or his other one. 

“What can I get you?” the pudgy young bartender asks.

“I’ll take a whiskey, neat,” Freddy says. Both the old timers at the bar are giving him unfriendly stares. The man sitting in back hasn’t turned to look at him. 

“Any particular kind of whiskey?” the bartender asks, seeming unimpressed by this order.

“Um, the cheapest kind you have?”

This gets a laugh from one of the old men, and Freddy can’t tell if it’s at his expense or not. He thanks the bartender when the whiskey is poured and takes it with him when he walks toward the lone man sitting in back. 

“Did you leave your phone in your car?” the man asks without looking up from his drink, which is, improbably and kind of hilariously, a glass of what looks like red wine.  

“Yeah,” Freddy says. “And it better not get stolen while I’m in here. This is place sketch as hell, in case you hadn’t noticed. Why’d we have to meet so far outside of--”

“You talk too much, Freddy. Sit down.”

Freddy takes the seat across from CK, so he can see the bar’s front door from over CK’s broad shoulders. His first impression is that CK might know where Superman is because he’s a superhero himself: he’s got the build, and his classically handsome features look familiar. He’s dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, and his glasses are big to a degree that goes beyond hipster-ish and all the way back around to earnest, with thick black rims.

“Have we met?” Freddy asks, holding the whiskey near his lips but not yet drinking.

“I can’t answer that at this time.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Clark.” He hold his hand across the table, and Freddy shakes it, frowning. “Thanks for coming.”

“How’d you-- Why me? How do you know who I am?” 

Freddy shifts uncomfortably inside the trench coat after asking, feeling as if the lightning bolt on his chest is going to spontaneously shine through the fabric and give him away, if there’s even anything to reveal to Clark, who is watching him a measured, knowing expression of placid interest that’s a little unnerving.  

“You published a journal article in college,” Clark says. “On the evolution of the superhero as a cultural concept in the twenty-first century.”

“Oh god.” Freddy rolls his eyes at himself and drinks from this whiskey, which tastes bad enough to make him wince. “Yeah, my sad attempt at academia.” He was actually a good student, but was never going to have enough time to really excel as a scholar with everything else he had on his plate. “So, what? That’s what this is about? Something I wrote in that paper?” 

“No. I just wanted to mention that I’d read it. I thought it was astute, in some ways.”

Clark is watching Freddy from across the table in an unblinking way that makes him nervous. It feels like Clark is seeing through the trenchcoat to the superhero costume beneath without needing the lightning bolt’s glow to give it away. Freddy tells himself he’s imagining things and drinks more whiskey. It’s been a long time since he had anything to drink while in his super-form. It’s impossible to even get a little buzzed with his body canceling out the booze as if it’s battle damage, but that’s just fine in his current situation. He just hopes he won’t need to take a piss. None of them has ever figured out how to peel off the Shazam costumes, which coat them like a second skin that glues the lightning bolt to the center of their chests, no zippers anywhere.

“You do have a perspective that interests me,” Clark says. “On superheroes and in general. And I have information that I think you may want.”

“Yeah, about--” Freddy glances at the others in the place. Neither the bartender nor the old guys with their beers seem to give a crap about their conversation, so he continues: “About where he is?” he says, whispering this when he meets Clark’s unnervingly intense-yet-calm gaze again.

“Indeed,” Clark says. “But if I tell you, it’s got to be as part of an equitable exchange of information. I’m not offering this freely. In other words, I’m hoping you can give me some information, too, before we proceed.” 

Freddy narrows his eyes, trying put his finger on what exactly is weird about this guy. It’s something about his speech pattern, accent, eyes, or all three. 

“What information do you think I have?” Freddy asks, worrying that this is Clark’s signal that he knows Freddy has a superhero costume on under his coat. 

Clark hesitates, giving Freddy a final staredown as if he’s trying to decide to proceed or not. He sighs under his breath and pushes the glass of red wine away, elbows coming to rest on the table as he leans closer to Freddy. 

“You’re a friend of Billy Batson, correct?”

Freddy’s heart starts beating fast, and it feels like a warning. He doesn’t like this, already.

“Yes,” he says, tightly, his most intensely protective instincts coming online, because he didn’t agree to get Billy involved with whatever this is. “Why.”

“As I understand it, he’s an associate of Dick Grayson’s.”

Now Freddy can’t even imagine what the expression on his face looks like. He feels his eyebrows shooting up, anyway, and an angry, unspoken objection tugs his lips into a possible snarl, because the word _associate_ , while probably accurate, is not one he wants applied to Dick and Billy’s relationship. 

“Uhh, yeah?” Freddy glances at the bar again. Nobody is looking their way. “What’s that got to do with-- Look, who _are_ you, man?”

“I’m nobody.” Clark glances at his wine glass and then back to Freddy. “Or, I should say, for our intents and purposes here today, it’s irrelevant. All you need to know is that I have the information you’re interested in acquiring, and I believe, through your association with Batson and his with Grayson, you may be able to get me the information I’m looking for, in exchange.”

“Which is what?”

“That’s the tricky part. I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for, at this stage. What I need from you, which you may or may not be able to give me in part right now, is general information about Grayson’s activities of late and in the past ten or so years.” 

“Why?” Freddy asks, an irrationally gleeful thing peeking in among the rest of his confused disbelief, because it kind of sounds like Clark thinks Dick might be up to no good, and Freddy would be very down for proving that, should it be the case.

“Never mind why just yet,” Clark says. “You’re seeking answers, same as me. I have reason to believe that the ones I’m looking for might have something to do with Grayson.”

“How do I know you’re not out to hurt him?” Freddy asks, thinking of Billy. “And using me to get intel on how?”

“You don’t. You can choose whether or not to trust me, of course. At this juncture, I really don’t have anything to offer you that would vouch for my good intentions. Just my word.”

Something about this is weirdly convincing, and it feels like Clark is on his side, which of course might be part of some nefarious manipulation. Freddy throws back the rest of his whiskey, not sure what kind of impression he’s trying to give Clark by doing so. Maybe Clark will think he’s getting drunk and letting his guard down, though something tells Freddy that Clark has already figured out enough to know that won’t happen, at least not because of booze. 

“The truth is, Clark,” Freddy says, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table, too, “I don’t exactly socialize with Dick Grayson. In fact, I avoid that asshole at all costs. And, frankly, I don’t even like hearing about his exploits, so Billy doesn’t tell me much. I don’t know that I really have anything to give you.” 

Clark almost smiles with what looks like amusement, or maybe Freddy is imagining things. 

“That was the impression I got when I researched your relationship,” Clark says.

“Researched?” Freddy says, making a face. 

“Nothing beyond simple internet searches. In looking into Grayson, I learned Batson lives in a guest house on Grayson’s grounds. And in looking into Batson, I learned you two have been friends since sharing a foster home as teenagers.” 

“Uh-huh,” Freddy says, almost wanting to laugh at how simple it sounds, put that way. 

“And I thought you might have a particular fondness for Superman,” Clark says, his gaze going from burning-intense to something softer for a moment. “Since I found an old news article about him visiting you at your high school, in the company of Red Cyclone.” 

Freddy says nothing, eyes locked on Clark’s as they seem to be negotiating something without words. He can’t put his finger on what it is before Clark looks away, checking over his shoulder to see the bar patrons continuing to ignore their presence. 

“Yeah,” Freddy says, slowly, not exactly sure what he’s confessing to here. “That happened.”

“Yes,” Clark says. He seems a little flustered himself, but it passes quickly. “So, as I was saying. I’m aware that you and Grayson don’t personally interact, or anyway I assumed as much. I know enough about him to understand that he’s fairly reclusive these days.”

“He’s a shut-in weirdo,” Freddy says, nodding. 

“Mhm. Perhaps he has his reasons. Do you think you could investigate what those reasons may be, through Batson or otherwise?”

“Why not just go directly to Billy?” Freddy asks, already wanting to say yes and telling himself to hold on, to think. 

Clark takes a deep breath and seems to consider how best to diplomatically respond, or maybe this is just more manipulation. Freddy is unnerved by how much he already wants to trust this guy. There’s just something about him.

“Forgive me,” Clark says, “But I thought you would be more objective about the situation, whereas Batson might defend Grayson’s interests and reject my offer. Also, as I mentioned, you met Superman as a child. So, again, forgive me for assuming, but I thought you might have a sentimental attachment therefore, and want to help.”

“This is in the service of helping Superman?” Freddy asks, wide-eyed and whispering. On the way here he’d been more than a little afraid that this guy was going to tell him Superman was dead.

“Yes,” Clark says, grave and unblinking again. “And I won’t say any more about why or how until you offer me some equivalent information. If you’re interested in helping, that is.” 

“Of course I am,” Freddy says before he can stop himself, eyes still blown open and probably crazed-looking, the way he always gets when he’s excited about something. “I mean, yeah, of course, just-- I can try to get information from Billy about what Dick has been doing, locked up in his freaking mansion.” 

He hears himself saying this and feels a jagged tug of regret already, because when he says it out loud it sounds like he’s selling Billy out, too, not just Dick. But maybe whatever Dick is up to is putting Billy in danger anyway.

“That would be good,” Clark says. “But what would be even better is if you can get yourself invited into Grayson’s home, or maybe just take a look around when you go to visit Batson’s residence. First hand observation is what I’m really after.” 

“Can you tell me what you think Dick is doing?” Freddy asks, worried about Billy now.

“Not just yet,” Clark says, jaw shifting. “I need you to demonstrate your good faith effort to help, and then I’ll share more of what my suspicions are. For now, this is what’s on the table. Are you in?”

“Can you at least tell me if Billy is in danger?” Freddy asks. He’s going to say yes to Clark’s offer, but this is more important than anything else, already.

Clark sits back and puts his hands on the table, considering this request. He nods, more to himself than in answer to Freddy’s question.

“I think our combined efforts to help Superman will ultimately be of assistance to Batson, too,” Clark says. “If you understand my meaning.” 

“Shit-- What-- How urgent is this? Should I warn Billy--”

“No,” Clark says, sharply enough to get Freddy’s guard back up. “Don’t tell Batson anything about our meeting tonight, my contacting you, or what I’ve told you already. If you do, the whole thing is off. You’ll get no information about Superman from me if that happens, and I’ll have to consider you an ally to Grayson and therefore potentially an adversary to me. If you understand my meaning.” 

“Who are you?” Freddy asks again, frowning and leaning forward. “Are you a superhero?” he whispers, not really expecting a straight answer.

“No,” Clark says, tightly. “I don’t have any powers.”

That wasn’t what Freddy asked exactly, as some superheroes get by a combination of nothing more than courage and suit tech, no powers required, but he can tell by the sharpness of Clark’s denial that at least this much is true, because he seems like he might be more than a little bitter about it.

“Why has this got to be a secret from Billy?” Freddy asks. He thinks he knows the answer and doesn’t like it, though he can understand it, from Clark’s perspective.

“He might tip Grayson off,” Clark says. “My research indicates they spend a lot of time in each other’s company.”

Freddy looks at his empty whiskey glass and flicks it, nodding. 

“I get it,” he says. “But if I swore Billy to secrecy-- I mean, he’s-- We’re--” 

Freddy makes himself stop talking, because Clark isn’t interested in this fucking drama. Nor does Freddy really want to discuss it right now, or think about the fact that even he’s not entirely convinced that Billy would take his side over Dick’s, if Freddy asked him to keep this particular secret. 

Clark is giving him a knowing look when he glances up again. It’s disturbing, this impression Freddy keeps getting that Clark knows everything about him already, including what he’s thinking.

“So,” Clark says. “I believe we understand each other.” 

“Yes,” Freddy says, nodding. He needs to think, and he won’t be able to until he’s alone, away from Clark’s piercing stare and imposing presence. “I won’t tell Billy or anyone else about this. I’ll find out what I can, and then, what? We’ll meet up again?”

“Yes. I’ll be in touch.”

Freddy pays for his whiskey and leaves the bar, casting one look back at Clark when he’s on his way out. Clark isn’t looking his way or sipping from his wine glass, which also didn’t look like it had been touched before Freddy arrived and seems more like a prop Clark brought with him than something this type of bar would actually serve. Freddy isn’t sure if he’s creeped out or not. Mostly, maybe unwisely, he’s excited.

He ends up turning on his car’s auto-drive feature and going all the way back to Philly that night, wired from a combination of adrenaline and charging station coffees that he stops for along the way, transformed back into his non-super self so that he can make use of charging station restrooms on occasion, too. Despite or maybe because of Clark’s instructions, he’s almost overcome with the need to go directly to Billy and tell him everything. This is the kind of stuff they’ve always confided in each other about, and if Billy is actually in some kind of danger because of his association with Dick, Freddy doesn’t want to wait another minute to rescue him from it. 

But Dick and Billy have been friends for a long time, and so far as Freddy can tell, Billy has never come to harm due to anything Dick has done. Quite the opposite, in fact. Billy’s been living a cushy life since the age of eighteen due to Dick’s many generosities. Dick is basically Red Cyclone’s patron, allowing him to be a superhero full time. Billy pretends to have a job at the lumberyard up near Grayson’s sprawling grounds, but it’s only a front for their family’s sake. Billy’s actual full time job is being Dick’s friend. At least, that’s how it’s seemed to Freddy since they were eighteen and everything fell apart. 

It’s almost five o’clock in the morning by the time he gets home, and Darla is asleep. Freddy drops his trench coat on the floor of his bedroom and collapses onto the bed, still dressed and still wide awake. Something big is happening. He feels now like he knew it was coming, like something on the wind has changed recently, a faint but unmistakable signal in the air itself. Maybe it’s the same thing Wonder Woman sensed down in Florida, the reason she gave that press conference that Billy and Darla found so inspiring.

Freddy isn’t sure he’d call it inspiring, personally. He wants to believe it’s a good thing, same as this meetup with Clark and the promise of maybe finding out where Superman has gone, and why. But mostly he’s terrified, because if things really are changing, they could always be changing for the worse. It’s happened before.

 

**

He tries to focus on the mundane details of his job for the next few days, keeping his head down as he anticipates the usual bi-weekly family trivia night and plans how he’ll approach Billy about getting access to Grayson Manor, or whatever they call the massive compound that houses just the two of them, so far as Freddy knows. 

Ever since his meeting with Clark, Freddy’s imagination has run wild with the possibilities of what Dick might secretly have stashed there. He was Batman’s sidekick, after all, and maybe he not only inherited Bruce Wayne’s massive wealth but also his proclivity for building secret underground lairs. Freddy has pictured all manner of things lurking below the surface of Dick’s manicured lawns and grand estate, all of them way too close to Billy. By the time he’s heading to trivia to meet up with Billy and the rest of the family he has to tell himself not to be too obvious or desperate when he brings up his sudden and extremely uncharacteristic desire to spend time around Dick Grayson, half-knowing already that he’s going to screw this up. Billy can always tell when he’s lying or hiding something, sees right through him.

But he’s got to try. Over the past few days he’s grown authentically desperate to gain access to Dick’s mansion and its environs, his curiosity about what Clark even expects he might find there running nonstop at full-speed through his mind. In theory, all he’d have to do is show up at the front gates and Billy would let him in, but Freddy has been rather histrionic over the years about never wanting to go back there, so he’s got to sell this right or risk making Billy suspicious from the start. The last thing he wants to do is set off any alarm bells that will make Billy extra protective of Dick’s privacy, both because it will mess up his plan with Clark and because he’ll literally vomit if he has to see Billy acting protective of Dick ever again.

When he walks into Rocko’s he’s surprised to see Billy already there with Rosa and Victor at their usual booth. Typically Billy is the last one to arrive, and it’s rare for either him or Freddy to beat Mary and her husband Doug, who are obsessively punctual even when they bring their kids. Freddy is also embarrassingly relieved to see that Billy hasn’t brought a date. It’s been a while since Billy was serious enough about anybody to want them to meet the family, and the last break-up was apparently bad, but Freddy is always waiting for the next dramatic sea change in the undefined status of whatever he is to Billy, or whatever he suddenly isn’t.

“Where’s Mary?” Freddy asks by way of greeting, leaning down to hug Rosa and then Victor, and finally Billy, who uses the hug as leverage to pull Freddy down into the booth next to him in a way that makes Freddy’s cheeks hot. 

“She and Doug are on their way,” Rosa says. “They’re dropping the kids off at Doug’s parents’ house.”

“Aw, they should just bring them,” Freddy says, though actually he’s relieved. Mary’s kids are adorable, and he considers them his little niece and nephew, but the less distraction tonight, the better. He needs to stay focused on the real task at hand, and he can already feel Billy giving him some pointed little glances, which, just-- Great. He turns to Billy and meets his eyes with even more caution than he normally employs in the presence of Rosa and Victor, fretting about how necessarily close they’ll have to sit when Darla gets here and crowds into the booth along with them. Though maybe fretting isn’t the right word, exactly. ‘Looking forward to’ might be just as accurate, especially when Billy gives him a questioning little smirk that’s unfairly cute. 

“What is this look you’re giving me?” Billy asks. 

“Huh? I’m not-- What?” Freddy shoves Billy’s shoulder and looks across the table, laughing nervously for their smiling, still-oblivious parents. “Darla’s coming, right?”

“You’re the one who lives with her,” Victor says, laughing. “You tell us.”

“Yeah, she-- I guess she’s coming from work. She said she’d see me tonight.” 

He knows she’s on her way, texted with her from the parking lot as he walked in. That was just the only thing he could think of to say, with Billy having the nerve to look at him like this, like he’s glad to see him and doesn’t care who knows it. Freddy hasn’t been this on edge in the presence of Billy plus his parents since they were teenagers. It’s the Clark thing. He can’t think straight, will probably miss every trivia question. 

“How’s work?” Rosa asks, and Freddy can hear the ‘you look stressed’ in the question. 

“Oh, it’s, you know, it’s fine, same as ever. One of my kids won a state-wide prize for this paper she wrote on Napoleonic France, so that was cool.” 

“I love that you call them your kids,” Rosa says, grinning.

“Ha, well, I’m just their history teacher, but, yeah. I mean, at least half of them hate me, so.”

“They’re high schoolers,” Victor says. “That’s normal.”

Freddy can’t even a handle a mention of things high schoolers do being normal or not right now, tense as he is. He practically cheers when he sees Mary and Doug walking in, because thank fuck for someone else taking over as the center of attention. Billy elbows him under the table as soon as Rosa and Victor are preoccupied with greetings, and Freddy gives him a look that tells him to knock it off, then leans over to accept Mary’s hug and smiles back at her like everything’s fine. Because it is! Good god, this is going to be a long night. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Mary says, as if they’re even five minutes behind schedule. “Doug’s father trapped us in his VR chamber.”

“Oh, man,” Victor says. “That sounds-- Dire?”

“He’s got this new under the sea simulation,” Doug says, pulling over a chair so he can sit at the end of the table, a configuration that the size of their group requires. “Some kind of Aquaman tribute thing.”

The air feels heavier at the mention of one of the slain superheroes. His death was the most shocking after the original Batman killing, though not quite as painful as the one that came next, which was worse for Freddy and Billy than even losing Batman had been, though they didn’t know his alter ego until the killer made it public as part of his usual sick calling card sign-off. They’d known him as The Flash and considered him a friend. 

“Sorry,” Doug says, giving Billy and Freddy a wincing look of apology when the mood at the table palably dips.

“Sorry for what?” Rosa asks.

“Nothing, it’s fine!” Mary says, and she forces a laugh. Doug knows about her powers, but she hasn’t used them since before she had kids. Becoming a mother made her swear off anything that would put her in hero-level danger, not to mention her family, should her identity be compromised. She smiles at Rosa and shrugs at her look of continued confusion. “Where’s Darla?” she asks, and Freddy almost laughs when she tries to change the subject the same way he did.

“Here I am!” Darla calls, blessedly appearing to clear the tension and start up another round of hugs and hellos. She drops into the booth beside Freddy, scooting in close enough to press him against Billy from shoulder to ankle, which is both an enormous relief and a cause for sweaty internal panic, just like the old days. 

“I know it’s just barely,” Rosa says, “But I’m glad you guys all still fit in our old booth.” 

“We wouldn’t if everyone was here,” Darla says. “When’s Pedro gonna come visit?”

“Hopefully soon, but, I think--” Rosa glances at Victor, smiling. “Should we tell them?”

“Yeah, he said we could.” 

“The invites won’t go out for a while yet, but save the date of October 30 on your calendars, okay?”

“Oh my god!” Darla says, veritably shrieking with glee. “He and Danny are getting married?”

“Yep,” Victor says, laughing at her excitement as she grabs Freddy’s arm and shakes it, beaming. “And Danny being Danny has offered to fly us all up there for the wedding and put us up in some fancy hotel, no expenses spared.”

“He can afford it,” Freddy says. Pedro’s longtime boyfriend, now fiance, has been filthy rich since his mid-twenties, when he invented the hover tech that everybody uses on their previously-known-as handheld devices now. 

“That’s awesome,” Billy says. “Good for them.” 

“Listen to this sudden enthusiasm for monogamy!” Mary says, making an exaggerated surprised face. “Coming from this source? Shocking!”

“Ha, ha,” Billy says, deadpan, but he’s grinning like he doesn’t really give a shit about being teased for his attempt to date or at least sleep with every man and woman in Philadelphia by the age of thirty. Freddy is the one who’s kind of dying inside at the mention of it, wishing not for the first time that Mary knew about them, too. If she did, she would never say things that tear Freddy’s heart out and throw the bloody shreds of it onto the family dinner table. 

“Hey, now,” Victor says. “Everybody moves through the seasons of life at a different pace.”

“Oh my god, Dad,” Darla says, laughing, and Freddy loves her for saying something to prevent everyone from awkwardly turning their attention to him and his complete lack of a love life, so far as they know. 

“Speaking of which,” Rosa says, digging out her phone. She puts it in hover mode and turns it toward their side of the booth. “Eugene pictures,” she says, and it registers the voice command, pulling up a photo of Eugene and his wife beaming and holding a tiny infant swaddled in blue. 

“Oh my gosh!” Mary says, nudging the phone in her direction. “She had the baby, awww. When did he send you these?”

“Just this morning.”

“God, I should call him.”

“Maybe in a month or so,” Doug says. “When he’s gotten a few hours of sleep, hopefully.”

“His life is about to change,” Mary says, nodding. She looks up from the baby picture and gives Billy and Freddy a worried glance. She’s wondering, like they are, if San Diego’s beloved Stormbolt will still be protecting the city now that his alter ego has a kid. For Mary, the decision seemed easy. She never got into the habit of patrolling, more interested in making a life for herself in what she would call “the real world,” and only calling on her powers if she happened to witness someone in need of them, especially after Batman’s murder. Freddy hasn’t been very good about keeping in touch with Eugene over the years, but he knows him well enough to understand the decision about how to proceed now that he has a kid will be far more difficult for him. He’s one of the most active of all of them, up there with Darla and Billy in his stubborn willingness to publicly patrol as his super-self. 

The trivia game starts soon afterward, and their usual pizza order arrives just as the game begins. Their trivia team’s name is Super Family, which was made up by Darla when she was seven and has stuck ever since. They started this trivia night tradition after they had their powers, but Darla’s name choice offered no risk of exposing the truth to Rosa and Victor, because what could they ever imagine it meant except that Darla loved her family and thought they were all super?

After having a glass from the communal pitcher of beer, which is the only thing about this family tradition that’s really changed since they were kids, Freddy feels less like he’s about to face a firing squad and more just happy to be exactly where he is: pressed up against Billy in the booth of a cheesy restaurant that hasn’t changed since probably the mid-1980s, surrounded by his family and laughing with Billy at things that nobody else at the table finds particularly funny, like the trivia host accidentally saying ‘shit!’ into his microphone when he spills his beer at the DJ table. 

“Here’s one for all you superhero enthusiasts out there,” the host says toward the end of the final round, and Freddy feels Billy tense up a little at his side, possibly fearing some question about Robin or Nightwing or any of the other hero-related subjects that could put a strain on the otherwise pleasant evening. “The hero best known as Starfire is also known by what other official, royal name?” 

Freddy snorts and looks over at Billy, his eyebrows going up when Billy just looks lost.

“Ooh, I used to know this,” Darla says. “Darn, what is it?”

“Freddy definitely knows,” Mary says, passing the answer tablet over toward him. “Right?”

“Of course I do,” Freddy says, grinning at Billy now. “I’m just waiting to see if Billy does.”

“Why would I know?” Billy mumbles, narrowing his eyes in a way that warns Freddy not to say exactly why he should in front of Rosa and Victor.  

Freddy laughs and shakes his head. He picks up the tablet to type in _Princess Koriand'r_ , sorry that he can’t openly rag on Billy for not knowing this. Billy made out with this woman at least once when they were teenagers, but Freddy is the one who knows her actual, like, _name_. Go freakin’ figure.

Super Family ends up coming in second place, thanks mostly to Freddy and Darla, who are the family trivia nerds. Victor and Rosa insist on paying the tab, as usual, and Mary and Doug pointlessly try to convince them to let them cover some of it, also as usual. The restaurant is emptying out by the time they’re all out in the parking lot, saying goodbye and exchanging hugs, everybody in a particularly good mood in light of the news about Pedro’s wedding, which will be an occasion for the whole scattered lot of them to be together again for the first time in years, Eugene included. 

“Wait up a sec,” Freddy says, tugging on Billy’s sleeve as everyone else heads toward their cars. 

“Why,” Billy asks, stepping toward Freddy and already standing too close. “So you can make fun of me for not knowing what that girl’s official space princess title was? I haven’t seen her in like fifteen years, Freddy.” 

“Really?” Freddy wrinkles his nose in surprise, glad to hear that. “I would have thought she came around to the manor from time to time, since she and Dick were Titans together.” 

“Can you maybe not use people’s real names in public when you’re talking about their hero identities?” Billy says, as if there’s anyone around to hear. The parking lot is emptying of cars now, Darla waving as hers drives past. She gives Freddy a look that might be some kind of warning not to let Billy get him all shaken up again, but maybe not. She long ago told him she’s not going to even casually advise him on Billy-related matters. She doesn’t want to pick sides. 

“Actually,” Freddy says, tugging on Billy’s arm so he’ll follow him around the side of the building, until they’re standing in an alleyway between Rocko’s and the weed dispensary that used to be a more traditional pharmacy. “I wanted to talk to you about, um, that,” Freddy says when Billy is standing there looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to work up the nerve to do this. 

Freddy’s heart is slamming already. He hates that this feels like a betrayal of Billy. But it’s not-- All he’s doing is asking to see what’s going in Billy’s life, out there in that mysterious manor. It’s overdue, really. Freddy shouldn’t have let his hatred of Dick keep him from checking up on the situation out there years ago. 

“About ‘that?’” Billy says when Freddy continues to hesitate, distracted by the scent of beer on Billy’s breath and how much he wants to taste it. The taste grew on him over the years, and when it’s paired with the taste of Billy’s mouth it’s really fucking good. “Which ‘that’ are we talking about?” Billy asks. “The Teen Titans? Me making out with Starfire a million years ago? What? You’re acting so weird, Freddy, just fucking tell me.” 

“I, uh-- It’s nothing, really, I was just wondering if maybe I could come visit you out at your place sometime. Soon. Like, tomorrow?”

Billy frowns and cocks his head, brow creasing. He already knows something’s up. Well, fuck. Of course he does.

“You hate my place,” Billy says.

“Yeah, well, I know, but--”

“You, like, very specifically, very vocally hate my place.”

“It’s not the freaking guesthouse I hate! I don’t have a problem with, like, your yard.” 

“Right, just the person who owns it. Look, fine. It’s pretty easy to avoid Dick, anyway. Which I’ve told you before, by the way. Of course you can come over. You’re welcome there anytime, you-- You should know that, Freddy.”

“Great. Yeah.” Freddy takes a deep breath and prepares for Billy’s reaction to what he’s about to say. “And, hey, speaking of Dick, actually-- I was thinking-- If he’s free-- I’d really like to try to, um. Mend the bridge there, a little. If possible. Just to be, you know. The bigger person.” 

Billy stares like he’s waiting for the punchline, the amusement steadily draining from his eyes when it doesn’t come.

“Okay, no,” he says.

“No?” Freddy glowers at him, instantly angry. “You’re forbidding my access to Dick?”

Billy snorts and smiles a little, and only then does Freddy hear how that sounded. He groans.

“God, I hate that man’s stupid name, too,” Freddy says, without meaning to.

“Yeah. So, it sounds like you’re _really_ ready to mend bridges, there. Bull-fucking-shit.”

“No-- It’s not bullshit! I’m serious!” Freddy grabs Billy’s arms for emphasis, and also because touching him usually goes a long way toward convincing him to do something or not. “I’ve been thinking, since the other night, when I acted like an entitled shithead just because you dared to mention him-- I hate that about myself, okay?” This part is true, though more because it’s embarrassing to admit he still holds on to the old grudge so tightly than because he feels it’s not warranted. “And I feel like--” He swallows heavily, hating that he’s using this as a way in without telling Billy the whole truth, though it’s also not a lie. “Just, I feel like if I can’t get past this, you and I can’t be close again. Like we used to be, like. Like I wish we still were.”

“We’re still close,” Billy says, looking so instantly wounded by this that Freddy can’t stop himself and doesn’t even check to make sure no one is looking before leaning up onto the toes of his good foot to give Billy an apologetic kiss on the lips. It’s fast, anyway, and soft, and he does check the visible bits of the parking lot after doing it. Nobody seems to be around.

“But there’s this thing between us,” Freddy says, speaking softly and ignoring the screaming voice within him that’s saying this is wrong, so wrong, to wrap all these true, heart-ripping things up around the plot with Clark to keep it concealed for now. “You know?”

“Mhmm.” Billy looks down at Freddy’s chest and reaches for his waist, pulls him forward so their hips are flush together. Freddy feels an inappropriately strong surge of arousal peel down through him at the contact, along the backs of his legs and warm between the points of his hips. 

“I know you know,” Freddy says, almost sub-vocal because it hurts to say this, for multiple reasons. He puts his free hand on Billy’s chest and feels for his heartbeat. It’s on the quick side, which could mean anything. Billy could be winding up to tell him he’s been sleeping with Dick all this time, and has only been saying otherwise to protect Freddy’s flagrantly fragile feelings. 

“Yeah, I know,” Billy says, meeting Freddy’s gaze with his that old lightning bolt crack of sparks that shower through Freddy when their eyes lock. Something about the shyest, most anxious looks Billy gives him are the ones that set this off inside him, every time. “But, what? You really think talking to Dick would change anything? He’s still-- You know, uh. How he is.”

Freddy rolls his eyes, then softens this reaction with a smile. 

“It’s worth a try,” Freddy says, moving his hand up to rub at Billy’s neck, properly wanting him now and actually getting a little hard, jesus. 

Billy must feel it, because he grins, and the lost little boy look that he can still affect sometimes turns wolfish in a blink. 

“Are you seriously humping my leg in the alley behind Rocko’s?” Billy asks, ducking down for a near kiss, just teasing it when Freddy tries to surge up to meet his lips. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Freddy says, and he feels his expression turning wolfish, too. 

Billy snorts and kisses him, then pulls back abruptly, too soon for Freddy to even properly get his tongue into Billy’s mouth. Freddy listens for sirens, but doesn’t hear any. 

“Okay, but, wait,” Billy says, eyes narrowing. “What happens if you come over tomorrow to hang out with Dick and it goes like it did last time? Are you gonna not talk to me for weeks after? ‘Cause I’m not doing that shit again.” 

“Jesus, of course not! I was nineteen when that happened!”

“Twenty, actually.”

“Oh, big difference. You know what I mean. I was still-- Everything was still too raw, back then, and we shouldn’t have even tried to repair it yet, at least not on that level. I promise, I’m not going to make a scene. No matter how much he tries to provoke me into one. Which maybe you could tell him not to do, just a thought.”

“Right, ‘cause he does what I say, ever.”

Freddy frowns and shakes his head, wanting to ask for the millionth time, just what the fuck do you see in this guy, then? But he knows, and Dick probably does, too: money. At least, that’s all Freddy has ever wanted to believe it is. It’s painful enough to think of it that way, that Billy let everything between them go to shit just so he wouldn’t have to hold some boring, normal job the way the rest of them do. 

“You can trust me,” Freddy says, wishing he could tell Billy everything already, right from the start. He rubs the back of Billy’s neck and smiles when Billy shivers a little and presses into the touch. It’ll be okay in the end, Freddy tells himself. He’ll tell Billy everything as soon as he can, and they’ll go rescue Superman together. Or something like that.

“Of course I trust you,” Billy says, squeezing Freddy’s waist. “I just don’t want to make a bad situation worse. Between you and Dick, I mean. ‘Cause, Freddy, really.” Billy swallows heavily and looks down. “Me and you, are. I know it’s not perfect, but. Aren’t we okay, now?”

Freddy almost says, are you fucking kidding me? You think I can be okay if I can’t say that you’re not going to show up to trivia with some stupid date again any day now? If I don’t even get to see you every day? If we fuck in my bed and then you go home to Dick?

But they can’t get into that right now, so he just shrugs and forces a smile onto his face. 

“Yeah, we’re good.” 

Freddy seals this with a kiss, mostly for an excuse to not be looking into Billy’s eyes while he avoids the truth. But it’s only for now, just for now. They’re going to figure this thing out, and then everything else, too.

“God,” Billy says when he pulls back, breathless and bright-eyed. “Do you even know how much I’ve been wanting this?” he asks, moving his hands down to Freddy’s ass and backing him up until his shoulders are pressed against the wall behind him. 

“Fucking in the alley behind Rocko’s?” Freddy says, his lip lifting in distaste at the idea. 

“Oh my god, no.” Billy grins. “Freddy, this is a family restaurant.” 

“I--! I know that! You’re the one who’s grabbing my ass right now!”

“Grabbing your ass is not fucking, and I’m barely squeezing it. No, I meant you coming over to my place. You haven’t even seen it in ten years! You have to let me show you around before we get into-- Whatever, with Dick. Okay? Come early.”

“Sure,” Freddy says, and now his smile is real. He’ll have to remind himself not to be a shit about Dick’s enormous wealth and how that’s reflected in Billy’s living environment, but he can probably handle that. “Sounds good.” 

“And then, um. You know, since it’s like two hours to get back to the city from our place, you should really stay the night. With me,” Billy adds, and because he apparently needs to be perfectly clear: “In my bed. Okay?”

“Sure,” Freddy says again, breathing the word out like a prayer this time. 

They kiss differently after that, with a hungry, heedless energy that makes Freddy begin to worry that they are going to do something insane right here in the alley behind their family’s favorite restaurant. It’s insane enough that after all this time they both get this turned on by the idea of staying in bed together from night all the way into morning. When they were younger they dared almost everything else eventually, in Freddy’s bottom bunk and as silently as they could manage, but they never spent the whole night pressed together afterward, except for one precious occasion when Rosa and Victor were away with Darla and Billy finally didn’t have to worry in his obsessively guilt-ridden way about not waking up in time and getting caught still holding Freddy in the morning. 

That was in the summer of 2022, just a handful of weeks before Batman’s murder. For almost a full twenty-four hours they had the whole house to themselves, and Freddy still thinks about every one of those twenty-four hours all the fucking time. He moans into Billy’s mouth when he allows himself to imagine that Billy does, too. He might, since he was so intent on asking Freddy to stay over, already. 

“Shit,” Billy says when he breaks the kiss, looking back over his shoulder with a frown. Freddy is breathing too loudly to hear it at first, but then he does, distantly: sirens. 

“You really did want to fuck me in this alley, huh?” Freddy says, smirking and pulling free to look for a place to stash the crutch. 

“Nn. Maybe I’ll bring you back here if it turns out to just be a traffic stop.” 

“Yeah, the combo of weed and pizza grease smell is super hot. You ready?” Freddy asks, bracing his hand against the brick wall of Rocko’s once his crutch is hidden behind a nearby dumpster, which also doesn’t smell great. 

“Yep,” Billy says, and he holds out his hand. “C’mon. Together, okay?”

Freddy hears himself exhale in an overly conspicuous way but doesn’t even regret it, nodding as he moves clumsily toward Billy. He takes Billy’s hand and lets Billy support him in part as they come together, both still breathing hard, eyes locked and triumphant grins already edging at the corners of their lips. Freddy holds Billy’s shoulders, and Billy grabs Freddy’s waist, tugging him so close that their stomachs are pressed together, noses touching.

“Ready?” Billy asks, whispering this in the dark in the way that Freddy has always, always loved.

They do the countdown together, and when they scream SHAZAM! and transform in a blinding flash of double-strength lightning it’s like being liquified in a way that is not wholly unlike an amazing orgasm. They’re both laughing as they lift up through the air, still holding onto each other as they clear the height of Rocko’s roof. It’s been a long time since they transformed while holding onto each other. Freddy has no idea why they stopped, suddenly.

As they blast off together in the direction of the sirens, he has no idea why any of what goes on between them can’t always feel as perfect as it does just now, and maybe it will, soon. For the first time in years he catches himself thinking and almost allowing himself to believe, _me for you, and you for me. Forever_.

But then there’s the last part of his cherished memory of hearing that, the part that was a still question, even then.

_Right?_

 

 

**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all who are reading, I continue to have so so much fun with this story and your comments have been so encouraging and are cherished!! <3
> 
>  **One note about this chapter** is that it includes some heavy stuff about growing up away from a biological parent toward the end, specifically a parent who is an addict. 
> 
> Very excited to see what people think about this part and VERY excited to post the next chapter already, stay tuned~
> 
>  
> 
> **

The summer after their junior year of high school was both torture and bliss. Freddy and Billy were closer than ever, patrolling nightly with no class in the morning to worry about staying awake for, and the day trip to New York for Freddy’s birthday had been so special that Freddy couldn’t even put his finger on why, except that something subtle had shifted between them just before they took the train there together, spent all day wandering the city and feeling newly grown-up, and read Freddy’s new comics on the trip back, shoulders pressed together as they kept their eyes down on the pages, both taking longer than usual to read the dialogue and even just stare at the images. 

When they got home from Rocko’s after Freddy’s birthday dinner with the family, Freddy was almost certain something was going to happen between them, though he couldn’t say what and didn’t dare to hope for anything specific. When Billy gave him the back rub as usual, Freddy was so hard against the bed that he worried Billy would feel the almost unbearable throbbing of Freddy's dick reverberating across the whole mattress. If Billy felt that or anything else, he didn’t say anything about it, just asked if Freddy was falling asleep and pushed his fingers into Freddy’s curls to give his scalp a fond little scratch after Freddy lied and said that yes, he was sleepy, nodding off. 

He was actually up for hours after Billy said goodnight and went up the top bunk, sleeping soundlessly there while Freddy suffered and humped his mattress as slowly and silently as he could, desperate to touch himself and terrified that Billy would hear him if he did, that something would be ruined, because obviously Billy didn’t want what Freddy did after all, or at least not enough to ever do something about it.

Even by Billy’s birthday in mid-June, they still hadn’t touched each other except in the usual ways, and by that point the not-doing-anything about what was building to a breaking point between them had started to feel almost illicit itself and a little exciting, when the air between them got so heavy that Freddy’s dick would start to get hard on misguided hopeful instinct, not having gotten the memo that Billy’s long, mournful stares that hit Freddy like hunger pains weren’t actually going to get him off. Freddy was groggy with lust from dusk till dawn in a way that was almost enjoyable, even a little funny at times, though also like slow torture, whittling at an increasingly thin strand of patience that seemed to run from his tailbone to the base of his skull, until it was down to a fine thread that always felt ready to snap. Freddy had started dreaming almost nightly that Billy finally grew a pair and came down to his bed in the middle of the night to do literally mcfucking anything he wanted, because Freddy wanted all of it, from Billy, as soon as humanly possible.

Freddy couldn’t really judge Billy for being a coward, because he was of course terrified to try anything himself, afraid to be the one who made the first move and potentially got told, with a horrified and permanent cooling of their relationship, that he’d read the room dead wrong after all. 

So they went about every long summer day in a combination of consuming need and dizzying excitement, blasting huge grins at each other when they were in superhero form and giving each other secret, desperate, frightened little glances across the breakfast table and every night before they climbed into their separate but oh-god-so-close beds.

By August Freddy was like a livewire, locking himself in the hall bathroom to jerk off sometimes three times a day, which still didn’t feel like enough, and having no idea how he’d survive the start of their senior year if he still felt like this when the first day of school rolled around. The days just kept ticking away, the resumption of their school-time life creeping ever closer, and they started getting in petty little arguments over leaving shirts on the floor of the room or posing for too many photos for admiring fans after doing something heroic together in the city. Freddy didn’t really mind the fights, as none were serious, and something about snapping at each other was almost a relief, as if it was a little closer to what he wanted than all the heavy sighing, loaded looks, and overlong backrubs.

The weekend before the start of the school year arrived, and still nothing had happened. Billy was in an increasingly shitty mood, because he would have to retake a miserable math class he didn’t pass the year before, and also because everything about school made him miserable anyway. He started taking more hours at the hardware store in a way that worried Freddy, who didn’t want him to drop out. It wasn’t just that he wanted Billy to finish high school for his own good, so he wouldn’t feel inadequate or lesser. School was hell for Freddy, too, in an entirely different way, and he didn’t want to lose his only friend there, the person who sat with him at lunch and walked with him in the halls, often the only friendly face Freddy saw all day. He also didn’t want to open up some new way that they’d feel separate from each other in the future, Freddy having gone in one direction and Billy in another. 

Freddy was annoyed when Billy worked a late shift on the Saturday night of that last school-free weekend, which meant Freddy was left watching the family movie of the week with just Darla at his side, Rosa and Victor cuddled up together on the other side of the sofa. It did give him the occasion to reflect that, so far as he knew, Billy had kept his promise to abandon all social activity in favor of spending every second with Freddy during the summer, aside from the time they spent at their part-time jobs. Billy had ended things amicably with Stacey at the end of the school year, according to him. When Freddy took her and her date’s tickets a few months later at the theater, she gave him a nasty look that made him think maybe her feelings about Billy weren’t entirely amicable after all.

The movie was halfway over when Billy got home from work at half till ten. Darla was excited that he wouldn’t miss it entirely and called him over to join them on the couch, scooting over against Rosa’s side to make room for Billy between her and Freddy. 

“I need to take a shower,” Billy said. 

“You can do that after!” Darla patted the couch cushion between her and Freddy. It was a not-big-enough space that Billy would only technically fit in. “C’mon, the movie’s really good.” 

Billy acquiesced and walked over, dropping into place between her and Freddy, who was squeezed up against the arm of the couch with a pillow hugged against his chest. He moved it over his lap and swallowed thickly when he was hit with insta-arousal at the sawdust and dried sweat scent on Billy’s skin, and for the fact that Billy was so fucking huge now that he barely fit in his usual spot on the sofa, had shot up to six foot three at some point over the summer and gained more muscle, rapidly beginning to resemble his superhero avatar in a way that was making Freddy lose his fucking mind. Freddy was somewhat bigger, too, and they couldn’t sit on the couch with the rest of the family without touching anymore. Billy’s shoulder settled against Freddy’s as he slumped down tiredly and watched the TV screen, his eyelids heavy and his skin too-noticeably warm even through the sleeves of both their t-shirts.

Freddy was frozen in perfect stillness, loathing his traitorous cock as it twitched toward hardness when Billy made a soft noise at the end of a yawn. Freddy stared at the screen in near-unblinking horror, trying to think about anything except how warm and heavy and sleepy Billy felt beside him, or the fact that he could see the rise and fall of Billy’s perfect fucking chest from the corner of his eye as Billy’s breathing slowed. Billy was falling asleep with his head tipped back onto the couch cushions, the utter bastard. He wasn’t suffering like Freddy was at all. This was both an immediate problem and a cause for heart-smashing panic, because maybe it was all only in Freddy’s head, all along?

“Poor thing,” Rosa said quietly, laughing a little when she noticed that Billy had nodded off. “He’s been working so much.”

“I’m awake,” Billy mumbled, and he cracked his eyes open for a moment before dropping back under, his shoulders sinking and his heavy head turning, of course, toward Freddy. 

Freddy made a battle plan for what he would do if Billy’s head dropped onto his shoulder: wake him, first of all, and somehow get out of this room with the pillow still held over his lap in a non-conspicuous way. Or get Billy out of the room, even better. He would order Billy to go to bed. 

Billy’s head stayed where it was, lolled against the back of the couch, but Freddy was dying a slow death anyway. He had no idea what was happening in this movie anymore and for a moment couldn’t even remember what they were watching. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except somehow escaping the family room without revealing his boner and ruining everyone’s lives. Also, more distantly, he needed to get himself off before bed or he would die. 

The movie seemed endless. Freddy’s heart pounded, and he bit the end of his tongue inside his mouth, hard, trying to chase away his arousal. It was impossible: Billy was too big, too warm and sweet and close, too perfectly somewhere between hot and pretty, too everything, always. Billy sighed softly and shifted in his sleep, the spread of his legs falling open a bit wider, and Freddy bit the end of his tongue so hard he tasted blood, but even this didn’t kill his evil dick’s attempt to destroy him. He almost made it to the end of the movie without allowing himself even a single real glance over at Billy, only seeing him from the corner of his eye, but when the relief of the end credits came he let his guard down and glanced over, almost making an audible gurgling sound of regret when he saw that Billy’s nipples were hard under his t-shirt, visibly peaked due to the air conditioning that was on blast.

“Going to bed!” Freddy said in a near shout, doing a leaping whirl off the couch as soon as Rosa was preoccupied with turning off the movie and Victor with helping Darla clean up the stray popcorn kernels from the couch cushions. Freddy’s panicked dismount woke Billy, who made a kind of _mphf_ noise of sleepy confusion that Freddy wouldn’t have survived if he wasn’t already throwing himself toward the stairs. The one good thing about the crutch was that it made his gait reliably awkward anyway, therefore making stumbling away with a savage boner that much less conspicuous. 

Nobody objected to or commented on Freddy’s swift departure, so far as he could hear. He got up the stairs as fast as he could and into the hall bathroom, locking the door behind him. As soon as he had the sink on full blast he sank down against the counter until he was seated on the floor, letting his crutch fall away and cursing at the loud clatter it made. He licked his lips, swallowed a moan, and listened for a moment to make sure no one was coming upstairs to check on him. When he didn’t hear any footsteps, he tore open his jeans and reached into his sticky underwear, eyes going shut and head tipping back when he sighed as quietly as he could manage with the relief of finally wrapping his hand around his dick, squeezing. 

It only took a few frantic strokes and mental images of Billy’s thick thighs spreading apart the way they had when he adjusted in his sleep, only in Freddy’s mind they were alone together and Billy was awake, whispering, _yeah, please, oh_ when Freddy reached over to rub his cock to full hardness through his jeans, winding Billy up until he was whimpering and twitching the way Freddy was in reality, his fist stripping wildly over his dick as he pulled himself close and then over the edge by imagining Billy shyly lifting his hips up against his touch and begging for more, like: _Freddy, please, please, feels so good_ \--

He came for the thought of his name on Billy’s lips when Billy was shaky and desperate, needing him, wanting him so much that he couldn’t stand it, like Freddy couldn’t stand it.

Then the magic was over and he was alone on the floor of the bathroom while the clogged sink started to overflow above him, his hand wet with come and the rest of him somewhere between braindead satiation and humiliated heartache. 

He pulled himself up with some difficulty, legs still wobbly, turned off the sink and stood there miserably watching it drain, which seemed to take an eternity. There was a knock on the bathroom door. 

“You okay in there?” 

It was Billy, of course. Freddy groaned under his breath and rechecked his hand to make sure he’d cleaned it properly, then the floor, scanning it for any left behind evidence. When the coast was clear he unlocked the door and opened it, nothing to be done about his flushed cheeks. 

Billy gave him a tired smile, leaning in the doorway. Freddy almost wanted to hate him for doing this to him, for existing at all, but he couldn’t. He was so in love that he was comprised of it entirely, every molecule of him that had existed before Billy came into his life replaced by the ones that knew what this felt like and were dying from it all the time. 

“Everything okay?” Billy asked, laughing a little at the intensity of the stare Freddy was giving him, probably. 

“Yes,” Freddy said, trying again to be angry at him. “What do you want?”

“Uhh, to take a shower? Are you done in here?” Billy glanced at the draining sink and frowned. “Is that clogged up again?”

“It’s always clogged. Yes, I’m done. Move.” 

Billy lifted his eyebrows as if to comment on Freddy’s snippy attitude and moved out of the doorway so Freddy could get past. Freddy went to their room without looking back and dropped into bed feeling wretched. He couldn’t even get through family movie night without being a freak pervert who got a boner for the boy who was ruining his life. Furthermore, school was starting on Monday, and Billy would still be hot when they were eating lunch together or sitting in study hall. Freddy was going to die.

When Billy came in, Freddy could smell the shower on him from across the room. Freddy was pretending to be asleep, rolled toward the wall with the lights out.  

“Hey, don’t go to bed,” Billy said, not falling for this. “We gotta go out.” 

“No, you’re exhausted. Get some rest.” 

“I’m not, the shower woke me up a little.” Billy yawned even as he said this. “C’mon, Freddy, seriously. It’s the last night of the summer with no school tomorrow.” 

Freddy couldn’t even marshal the energy to roll over, let alone to climb out on the roof, hobble away from the house, transform, fly-- Normally he’d never turn down a Saturday night patrol, but he felt completely deflated by the orgasm he’d just secreted away in the bathroom and by the idea of school encroaching. 

“I can’t,” he said. “You go, if you want.” 

Billy made a disappointed sound. Freddy lay there in the dark hating life and listening to Billy dress for bed. 

“Let me do your back, at least,” Billy said, walking over.

If Freddy had been smarter, or stronger, he would have said no fucking way in the state he was in, but he couldn’t make himself do it. His back hurt worse than usual, possibly because of how tense he’d been down on the sofa for the past hour, and he looked forward to this part of their evenings like an addict who needed his fix, willpower nowhere to be found. Despite his lie back in April about not needing the back rubs after transforming, Billy still did them every night. He either saw through Freddy’s bullshit or just liked it so much that he wanted to do it regardless of necessity. 

Freddy wanted to believe that second, less likely explanation so bad it hurt. He rolled onto his stomach when Billy sat on the bed, keeping his face hidden in the blankets as usual, his breath stuttering out of him in a choppy rush just for the gentle way Billy pushed up the back of his t-shirt. 

“I know,” Billy said, as if Freddy’s misery was written on his skin, or maybe in his tight muscles, which Billy had already started to work firm fingers into. “It’s school. I’m fucking dreading it, too.”

“It’ll be fine,” Freddy said, not wanting him to have a defeatist attitude already. “It just sucks that we can’t patrol every night during it, is all.”

“That’s not all that sucks about school, dude,” Billy said, laughing. “And you know it. But, yeah. That makes it worse. Fun times.”

“Are you gonna get back together with Stacey once school starts?” Freddy blurted before he could stop himself.

Billy snorted as if the idea was absurd, moving his elbow into place against the knot on Freddy’s back and drawing a little half-buried squeak out of Freddy at the first glorious application of perfect pressure against it. 

“Stacey hates me now,” Billy said. “Naturally. I can’t win with girls. At least not for more than, like, a week or two, for some reason. I’m over it.”

Over her? Freddy wanted to ask. Or all girls? Dating in general? Sex, entirely?

“I’m sure you’ll have others lined up to take her place,” Freddy said, hating how bitter he sounded.

“That’s the thing, though,” Billy said. “All the girls at that school are starting to feel like the same shallow person. They aren’t, I know they aren’t, but the way they act, like-- Too cool for everything, but also so dumb and immature sometimes, I don’t know. I guess I’m ready to date actual adults, you know what I mean?”

“No!” Freddy said, jerking under his hands. “You can’t-- You mean, like-- Going out in the super form and pretending to be older than you really are? To date old people?”

“Old people?” Billy laughed and shifted his elbow away, replacing it with his tightly circling thumb, and oh god that felt even better. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant, Freddy,” Billy said, sarcastic. “I’m gonna go con people into thinking I’m thirty so they won’t know they’re fucking a seventeen-year-old. That sounds like me, yep.”

“Well, jesus! Ah, I mean-- Sorry. I’m sorry, I know. You wouldn’t do that. I’m just in such a shitty mood, I’m being an asshole. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Billy always forgave him so easily. It was almost annoying. “I meant after school, you know? I think I’ll just, uh. Be single, senior year. ‘Cause I really need to focus on passing that fucking class that’s ruining my life, and I want to save up money for after school, too. I might get a second job, if the store won’t give me more hours. But otherwise, yeah. I’ll just be with you. Patrolling,” he added, hurriedly, in a way that made Freddy’s self-battered heart perk up and beat faster.

“No way can you do two jobs, patrolling, and school, too,” Freddy said, to change the subject. Sort of.

“We’ll see. You’re really not going to come out with me?”

“No, and you shouldn’t fuck around with your powers when you’re this tired. There will be other Saturdays.”

Billy sighed in a way that sounded like he was admitting Freddy was right. It felt almost as good as his hands did when they slid down to the small of Freddy’s back, then up again. Freddy was hard, of course, but it wasn’t as painful as it usually got, since he’d just emptied himself. 

“I just hate, hate the end of our summers,” Billy said. “It’s the worst feeling.” 

“There will be other summers,” Freddy said, aching for him. Billy’s disappointments and little moments of sadness always hurt worse than his own. “And then, after school-- We can do whatever we want.”

“No, we can’t, as you so often remind me. We’ll have to get jobs, keep our identities secret. And you’ll be, I guess. In college. So, just more school. Less summer.”

Freddy didn’t know what to say. His heart was pounding, because it seemed important to say the exact right thing, right now, to diffuse the potential for more space to open up between them. He couldn’t bear another inch of separation, literally or otherwise.

“We’ll see,” Freddy said, which was definitely the wrong thing to say, because he was definitely going to college. He’d already started working on his early application to Penn State.

“As long as we can patrol together at the end of the day,” Billy said, and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully, too, “I’ll be happy.” 

“Me too,” Freddy said, almost getting choked up, because boy was that not true, in his case. He wanted-- _needed_ , felt like --so, so much more from Billy.

The summer ended and school began. Billy seemed serious about sticking to school and work and ignoring all the social trappings of senior year, and had become something of a social pariah anyway, because Stacey was more well-liked than him and apparently had told the story of their breakup in a way that made it out like Billy had used her for sex and then dumped her, which maybe was true? Freddy didn’t want to talk about it, and didn’t want to think about how happy he was, every day, to see Billy ignoring everyone else and just sticking by his side. Billy didn’t seem to miss the others at all. 

Their first semester went okay, aside from the fact that Freddy was walking around in a heartbroken fog half the time, sure that after so much time had passed since what he’d thought was an epiphany about Billy maybe sharing his feelings, he was wrong after all and nothing was ever going to happen. He tried to tell himself this was good, or at least okay, because whatever, they were best friends, and as long as Billy was in his life every day, that was something. It was just that this something often also felt like the sharpest torture he’d ever known, because Billy was so close, right there, but still never near enough. 

The holidays came and went as usual, both of them happy for the short but needed break from school and the ability to patrol nightly again for a while, the bitter cold of winter not stinging them at all as they flew through it in super form. They stayed out late, flying from the top of one building to the next, restless and almost wanting some evil but manageable villain to show up and challenge them. Most of the action was happening in other cities, as usual, and they read about crimes stopped and fights won by Superman and Batman with great interest. They also read the gossip about the fact that the two heroes often did not see eye to eye and in fact maybe hated each other. 

“What was Robin like?” Freddy asked one night when they were hanging out in his bed together, browsing through the usual superhero gossip sites on Freddy’s phone. One of them had a small mention of Robin, whom Freddy still secretly disliked, just because he’d had the audacity to hang out with Billy when Freddy wasn’t there to join in.

“He was weird,” Billy said. “But nice.”

“Weird how?” Freddy had heard this description from him before but hadn’t pressed, too jealous about that whole night of fellow teen hero camaraderie that he missed out on to bear Billy even talking about it at all. 

Billy made a face, thinking. It was snowing hard outside, and Freddy was feeling so cozy and content, stretched out in bed beside Billy with the rest of the house quiet around them, that he couldn’t imagine Billy saying anything that would activate his old jealousy. 

“I asked him if he went to high school and he got all weird and snotty about not discussing any details of our alter’s lives,” Billy said.

Freddy was overjoyed. He pressed his lips together to hide his smile and waited eagerly to hear more.

“I mean, he’s right, and I guess I was pretty new to all this back then, being dumb.”

“Oh, please, like disclosing whether or not you go to high school is going to reveal someone’s identity,” Freddy said, annoyed by this defense of Robin.

“Yeah, but you have to be strict about it if you’re going to make it count. Anyway, uh. Honestly, I don’t remember that much else about him. I was more into, you know. The girl.” 

“Starfire,” Freddy said. Well, now he was completely miserable. He should have known not to bring this up. “Did you ever see her again?”

“Nope. She’s an alien, you know?”

“Stop bragging that you’ve made out with people from other planets,” Freddy muttered. 

Billy laughed warmly and rolled toward him, sighing like he might fall asleep. So Freddy couldn’t stay mad at him. 

“You think Batman and Superman really hate each other?” Billy asked, eyes drifting shut. 

“No,” Freddy was more interested in staring at Billy just then than really discussing it. “I think Batman’s just a hero without inherent powers, and Superman has them, so. They see things differently.” 

“I’m so glad we both have powers,” Billy said, and he reached over to squeeze Freddy’s arm. 

Then he left his hand there, resting just under the sleeve of Freddy’s t-shirt, and moved his thumb over Freddy’s skin, sending screaming arousal straight down past Freddy’s stomach and along the length of both his legs, finally shooting back up to land with a hard throb in his dick. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Freddy said, not even sure which words were coming out of his mouth or why.

Billy moaned and took his hand away. He sat up and yawned, pushed his hair back. It fanned down from between his fingers, some of his fringe still sticking up goofily over his forehead, and he was the most beautiful thing Freddy had ever seen, in the light from the glow of the phone’s screen and the streetlamp outside. When he turned to smile down at Freddy it was almost too much. Freddy had the insane inclination to just straight up scream at him: why are you doing this to me??

“I will pass out here if I don’t, uh,” Billy said, voice thick. “I’m tired, so. G’night.” 

He left Freddy’s bed and climbed into his own, and that was that, except that Freddy lay awake beneath him for hours, breathing heavily and going over every detail of that interaction again and again, trying to figure out what he had missed, misread, or done wrong. 

School resumed, and they were both newly tense. Freddy wasn’t sure why, except that he was awaiting college acceptance letters and Billy wasn’t. Billy hadn’t applied anywhere and by February was already flunking his Spanish III class, which he never studied enough for and which embarrassed him twofold because both his foster parents were fluent. He never went to them for help, though no amount of their fluency could help him with what he was really struggling with, which was making himself practice, study, really try.

On Valentine’s Day, they arrived at school to find Billy’s locker decorated by some secret admirer who had paid the booster club to do this anonymously. It happened every year: in the first two weeks of February you could pay to decorate someone’s locker with a message, red construction paper letters and sparkling hearts. Billy got one every year and one year had two, which had presented a logistical problem that the decorating committee apparently had never encountered before. This year’s message was: “Billy Batson you are by far the hottest guy in this school and I <3 U so much,” and it was unsigned.

“Wow, guess someone doesn’t care about your torrid past with girls at this school,” Freddy said, already in a bad mood. Of course he had never gotten a locker decoration. Not that he wanted one, at all. They were stupid and embarrassing, and the ones for boys usually got defaced with insults written in Sharpie by lunchtime. Billy’s face was red as he hurriedly got his books out. 

“What’s it like to be hot?” Freddy asked when they were walking home from school that day, feeling bold. 

“Fuck you,” Billy muttered. He’d had a big World History test after lunch, and Freddy was starting to get the impression it hadn’t gone well. He wasn’t too surprised, based on his efforts during the previous week to help Billy study for it. 

“No, I’m serious,” Freddy said. His knew he should shut up but had been feeling glum in recent weeks, probably because of the constant coupley Valentine’s Day shit everywhere. He felt like he’d never have anything like that for himself. He’d always be alone and pining for Billy, watching him collect admirers. “I’m not trying to be rude,” Freddy said when Billy gave him a dirty look. “Just wondering, since you have personal experience and I don’t.”

“Oh my god,” Billy said, moaning. He stopped walking and turned toward Freddy, looked truly pissed off. “You’re fishing for compliments right now, really? Okay, Freddy, you need me to say it out loud? You are also hot. I’m sorry teenagers can’t see that because they’re, like, fixated on the crutch or whatever, because they’re ignorant assholes who suck. But you don’t get to pretend that you’re ugly. You’re fucking--” Billy looked away with a huffed breath, and he was bashful when he returned his eyes to Freddy’s, also blushing again. “You know what you look like,” he said, mumbling.

Freddy was speechless, frozen, staring up at him with a kind of wonder. He managed to swallow around the sudden dryness in his throat and drag his gaze away from Billy's. Was it happening? Were they going to kiss or something, finally, on fucking Valentine’s day, standing outside the scummy old pawn shop that they passed every day on their walk home from school, under a miserable mid-February sky of soggy grayness?

“Come on,” Billy said tightly, turning for home. “It’s fucking cold out and I am so over this day.”

And, oh, Freddy thought: of course nothing is actually happening. How stupid of me. 

He told himself for the millionth time that he had to stop getting his hopes up every time Billy seemed to be swooning in toward him. Of course Billy was obligated to pretend Freddy was hot. Freddy was the sad, perma-single friend who had confronted Billy about his hotness like an asshole. What could Billy say but ‘you’re hot, too,’ even if it was patently untrue. 

Freddy spent some time in the bathroom after they got home, for once not jerking off but staring at himself in the mirror, frowning and trying to see if there was any truth to Billy’s exaggeration. While he wasn’t hot, Freddy did have to admit that he didn’t have an ugly face, and he wasn’t as skinny as he used to be, filled out now through his still trim but not concave chest. He cursed at his reflection, feeling stupid and realizing this was pointless: whatever he thought about Freddy’s looks, if Billy still didn’t want him, who gave a fuck if someone else ever would? Freddy couldn’t imagine being physically close to someone else even in the ways he already was with Billy. It seemed perverse to imagine someone else rubbing his back. 

He went back into the bedroom, edging in shyly and wondering if he should apologize. Billy was up in the top bunk, stretched out on his back and looking at his phone. He didn’t look up when Freddy came in. 

Freddy didn’t think asking Billy what it was like to be hot was that big of an offense, and he was annoyed with Billy for having such a hissy fit about it and apparently still being pissed off, so he didn’t say anything either, just went to the computer and pulled up Facebook.

He had a new message in his private inbox. This was always exciting, because almost no one except Mary ever messaged him.

And then it was rapidly fucking terrifying, because the message was from Lawrence Freeman.

His father.

Biological father, he reminded himself, heart already slamming. He didn’t need to go look in the mirror again to know all the color had drained from his face. He could feel it.

“Billy?” he said softly.

“What,” Billy said, voice still tight with annoyance.

“Can. Can you, um. Come here, please, I--”

Billy must have heard the horror in Freddy’s voice, because he hurried over to the computer and looked concerned already when Freddy turned from the screen, shaking now and trying to make his voice work. He pointed to the screen.

“My dad,” he said when Billy leaned down to see what was going on. 

“Oh, shit.” Billy dropped to his knees at Freddy’s side and hovered close, as if they were suddenly on a roof and Billy might need to catch Freddy when he fell off of it. “Did you, have you. Read it yet?”

“No.” Freddy wondered if it would be stupid to ask Billy to hold his hand while he did. Then he decided: definitely, and told himself to calm the fuck down. This guy was just a loser addict who probably wanted money or something. He faked a laugh and shrugged. “Here goes nothing.” 

He opened the message, and was glad when Billy sat up a little taller on his knees to read it along with him. It was just as good as having his hand held, knowing Billy was right beside him, that he wasn’t alone with this.

_Hey son,_

_I wanted to tell you that I’m done serving my time as of January and have been working on my recovery. As part of that, I am apologizing to people I did wrong. I did you more wrong than anyone (well and your mother) and I am very sorry, Fred. I was wondering if maybe we could meet up sometime soon as I am moving to Arizona next month but before I do I would like to see you and apologize in person if that is something that you would be into._

_With love,_

_Dad_

“Dad?” Freddy said, glaring at the screen, face hot. “He has the fuh, fucking nerve to call himself that? Jesus Christ! What a fucking asshole!”

“Dude, calm down,” Billy said, and he gave Freddy an apologetic look for that remark when Freddy whirled on him, enraged. “I know, okay, yeah, it’s a lot. And that’s bullshit that he called himself that like it’s no big deal. But, like.” Billy turned his sad eyes back to the screen, jaw shifting. “I would, um. Fucking kill to get something like this from my mom. Jesus, even from my piece of shit father. He cares about you. That’s something. That’s a whole fucking lot, actually. I mean. You know?”

Billy turned his sad eyes back up toward Freddy’s face, and Freddy had to push his rage about Lawrence way down low. He moved to touch Billy’s face, then realized what he was doing and put his hand back in his lap. He was breathing hard, feeling absolutely fucking insane with the amount of emotions that were racing through him, relentless and all very sharp, knifing him up. 

“You think I should meet up with him?” Freddy said. 

“No, god no, I’m not gonna tell you what to do either way. I know it’s different for everyone. Just. Just saying how I would feel if I got that message, is all.”

Freddy exhaled through his nose, lips pressed together. He stared at the computer screen, reading the message ten more times. Billy stayed close, on his knees at Freddy’s side, and even with this other bonkers shit going on, Freddy distantly registered how good it felt to have Billy waiting there to see what Freddy needed, looking up at him like he was ready to give anything. 

They whispered about it all night long, facing each other in Freddy’s bed after lights out. For once, Freddy couldn’t manage to feel horny about Billy’s proximity, too shaken and preoccupied with their discussion about the pros and cons of meeting up with Lawrence. They had decided already that Rosa and Victor would not be told about this, either way. Freddy didn’t want to hurt their feelings by tipping off that he was interested, and he was pretty sure they were legally required to forbid the meetup unless a social services worker was present. And while he didn’t know Lawrence very well, Freddy knew enough about him to understand that he wouldn’t show if that was the arrangement. 

“God, I wish it was my mom who had lived and not him,” Freddy said, and then felt a little bad, because he was wishing death on this guy who had allegedly turned his life around and was trying to be better. It wasn’t like Lawrence was the one who’d killed his mother, though he did introduce her to drugs, so maybe he actually did, kinda. She OD’d on something harder that she found her way into without his help, years after Lawrence had fucked off and abandoned them. “Sorry,” he muttered, not sure who he was directing this at.

“Don’t be sorry.” Billy was lying close to him, even more so than usual, as if he’d sensed that Freddy was drawing strength from having him near, needing it more than ever. “I mean, you’re allowed to feel whatever you want.”

Freddy snorted at that familiar social services counselor-speak. They’d both heard a lot of it, over the years.

“Jesus, I’m so glad I have you,” Freddy said, his voice almost breaking when he just couldn’t fucking hold this in any longer. “I mean, that my best friend is someone who gets it, completely. All this ugly shit.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, and he put his hand on Freddy’s arm, squeezing softly. “I feel the same. Jesus. I also think, sometimes, what if all the stuff with the powers had happened, and I didn’t have you to help me? Like, goddamn. The world would have ended. Sivana’d be in charge and I’d be dead, probably.”

“Shut up,” Freddy said, though he was floaty and feeling okay for the first time since he’d read Lawrence’s message, hearing this. “You don’t know that. The other kids would have still helped. Mary helped a lot.” 

“And I love her for it, too. But you. I needed you, most of all. And I had you. It freaks me out to think about how bad off I’d be without you.” 

Freddy pulled Billy into a hug, moving up to put his chin on top of Billy’s head. Billy wrapped his arms around Freddy, too, and held on tight, his face hidden against Freddy’s collarbone, eyelashes tickling him there. 

They stayed that way for a long time. If Freddy had known this was going to happen he would have probably popped a boner just for the thought of lying there with Billy in his arms and started to plot how it could turn into a heated make out, but now that it was actually happening he was far too overcome by how completely loved and safe and good he felt to even think about escalating it into sex. 

After a while, however, his perverted mind did start to register things like how he could feel Billy’s hard stomach pressed against his own, and how much he wanted to hook his leg over Billy’s side and get him even closer. 

“It’ll be okay,” Freddy said when he made himself pull back, not wanting to ruin this by bringing his fucked-up desire shit into it. “I think-- I mean, if you come with me, it’s worth a shot. Just to see what he’ll say. If he sucks, whatever. We’ll leave. And if he’s really trying to make amends, I guess I’d like to hear what he has to say. Sure, so. Yeah.”

They got out of the bed and went to the computer. It took them about half an hour to carefully co-compose Freddy’s response to Lawrence, mostly because Freddy was anxious as fuck about this, hands shaking over the keyboard, and he needed to rethink every word choice at least ten times. 

Finally, what he sent was:

_Dear Lawrence,_

_Please don’t call yourself my ‘dad.’ But yes, I would be interested in hearing you out. Let me know when and where. Are you in Philly?_

__

_Sincerely,_

_Freddy (not Fred)_

He slept surprisingly well that night, though in the morning he did wake up with weird nightmares about Sivana. He went to the computer as soon as he was even half-conscious and wasn’t surprised to see Lawrence had already responded. This time, he let Billy go on sleeping and read the message alone.

_Dear Freddy,_

_Great! Sorry about the dad thing. I get ya. Okay, how about this diner called Sam’s Meat and Cheese near Central Park tomorrow at noon? I can’t be coming back to Philly right now because I got old friends there who might get me into trouble if you know what I mean. So doing it up in NYC is best for me._

_Thanks,_

_Larry F._

“Larry F.?” Freddy muttered under his breath, cringing. There were about a thousand other things wrong with this response, too, starting with the fact that the day he was suggesting for their meetup was a Wednesday and apparently Lawrence-- Larry? Whatever --didn’t even realize he was still in school. 

Regardless, he responded that yes, he would be there, and spent the day plotting with Billy about how they would do this. They debated flying from Philly to New York, but had never tried flying that kind of distance before, and decided now wasn’t the time to dare it. They would ditch school and take the commuter train in the morning, same as they did for Freddy’s birthday. If they came back on the 1:15 to Philly, they should make it home around the same time they normally would at the end of a school day. 

It was all happening fast, but Freddy was actually glad for that. He was already filled to the brim with dread, nerves, and guilt that he wasn’t telling Rosa and Victor about this. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t relate; they both spoken gently with Billy, eventually, about their experiences with attempts to reconnect with their biological parents and how disappointing it could be. But Freddy didn’t even want them to know he was interested. They deserved better; he was aware that he _shouldn’t_ be interested. He had all the family he needed already, thanks to them. But he couldn’t resist, too curious about who this guy even was, disappointing or not. His last memories of him were of shouting, slammed doors, his mother weeping. 

He’d started missing her a lot, newly, since getting the message from his father. She had been a total fucking nightmare in her own way, but he’d lived with her on and off until he was eleven, depending on if she was pretending to have her shit together or very publicly falling apart. When he was eleven she went to jail for possession and soliciting an undercover police officer, one of the most humiliating facts of his life that was full of plenty others. Almost as soon as she got out, a social worker came to the home of his awful then-foster parents to inform him that she’d OD’d in a motel room, sorry kid. A year later he was placed with Rosa and Victor, who were the first actual good thing that had ever happened to him, but even now he thinks of his mother with this weird fondness that kind of makes him ill. She wasn’t a bad person, though, somehow. She had no time for him, and all the time in the world for her addiction, but he liked to think she still loved him, from an arm’s length. She had told him he was funny once, and he’d gotten the impression she really meant it, because she’d been laughing pretty hard at whatever joke he’d told, despite being sober. Anyway, he’d thought she seemed sober, mostly. He could usually tell. He still caught himself worrying that she really hadn't been, because that comment meant a lot to him at the time and in a fucked up way it still did.

Freddy didn’t even attempt to pay attention at school the day before his meetup with Lawrence, all his thoughts focused on what would or wouldn’t happen. Billy was attendant and let him be quiet, keeping close and offering sympathetic little smiles when Freddy focused his attention enough to meet his gaze. This was the case at home, too, with Freddy spaced out at the dinner table and Billy trailing him around the house, checking to see if he was okay with little glances, knowing Freddy didn’t want to be asked in words. 

Freddy almost asked Billy to stay in bed with him after his backrub, a rare one that didn’t give him a boner, his nerves too raw to let him really enjoy anything. His voice caught in his throat and he didn’t manage to get this request out, even after Billy ran his fingers through his curls before whispering goodnight. 

Their alarm went off as usual in the morning, and Freddy was pretty sure Billy was already awake, too, heart pounding as they awaited the dawn. They both sprung out of their beds more easily than usual and got dressed quickly, avoiding Rosa’s eyes when they said goodbye as they headed off for what she presumed was their school day. 

They used their powers to fly to the train station, to save time. It was very weird to be super-powered while feeling as on edge and silently upset as Freddy did, but he didn’t say anything about it after they changed back behind the station. They were both tight-lipped and determined, and when they sat together on the crowded commuter train they didn’t talk or even look at their phones. Billy let Freddy have the window seat and left him alone with his thoughts, his arm pushed against Freddy’s on the divider between their seats. 

Freddy loved him so much that his eyes got wet from it at one point, when they were close to the city. Whatever Billy felt for him, Freddy knew exactly what Billy’s arm pressed against his meant: _I’m here if you need me, and you can ignore me until you do, just know that I’m here_.

By the time they were walking toward Central Park it was approaching eleven o’clock in the morning, and they still had an hour to spare. It was a gross, drizzly day in New York, cold and cloud-smothered. They ducked into a coffee shop and ordered pastries that neither of them really had the stomach to eat, mostly just picking at them. Freddy was way too jittery and nervous to dare any coffee. 

“Do you still want to live in New York?” Billy asked when Freddy had been silent for maybe ten minutes, constantly checking the time on his phone. The Sam’s Meat and Cheese diner was two blocks away. They had staked it out before settling on this coffee shop as their waiting spot.  

“Did I say that?” Freddy asked, frowning. “That I want to live here?”

“Yeah, dude.” Billy looked at him like he was crazy for not remembering. Freddy smiled a little, really enjoying being looked at with something other than worried sympathy for the first time since he got Lawrence’s message. “You said that at least like, five times.”

“What, when we were here for my birthday last year? That’s just ‘cause I was having such a good time. I don’t really care about New York that much.”

“That was a really good time,” Billy said, and he smiled, too. “We should do it again for your eighteenth.”

Freddy just grunted, not sure that he would ever want to take the commuter train back to New York if this went poorly. This encounter could easily spoil the entire city of New York for him, in fact.

It was raining for real when they left the coffee shop, and they had no umbrella. They were both soaked by the time they made it into Sam’s Meat and Cheese, where they enacted their plan of Billy sitting at a table near the door while Freddy scanned the place for Lawrence.

He was there. Sitting in back, hunched over a sandwich that he was taking a huge bite from when Freddy laid eyes on him. So apparently his appetite wasn’t affected by this whole thing.

Freddy glanced at Billy, who was looking at Lawrence, then at Freddy. They nodded to each other. Okay, go time. The look on Billy’s face was so-- Freddy almost wanted to just leave with Billy right then, without saying a word to the stranger at the other table, because Billy’s expression was everything he needed, almost. It was a look that said: I love you, I love you, oh god I love you so much it hurts, only Freddy had been wrong about this shit before so maybe not.

He turned away from Billy and walked to Lawrence’s table, telling himself he was a superhero, he was powerful, he was gonna be fine no matter what.

“Oh, hey,” Lawrence said, mouth full. He wiped it with a napkin as Freddy took a seat in the booth across from him, his hip aching from the effort required to use the crutch on wet sidewalks. “Still got that thing, huh?” Lawrence said, nodding to it when Freddy rested it against the side of the booth.

“Uhhh, yeah,” Freddy said, hopes already plummeting. Lawrence looked okay but not great: thin, hollow-cheeked, bright-eyed with lots of wild graying curls. “It’s a birth defect,” Freddy said, almost wincing at the term, which one of those social services counselors had encouraged him not to use. “It doesn’t, like. Heal.”

“Sure, I just thought--” Lawrence gestured vaguely with his hands, which were greasy from the pastrami sandwich and mound of fries he’d been eating. “You know, uh. Maybe the technology had improved or something.” 

“It’s pretty basic technology. Unless you’re saying you were expecting me to have a bionic robot leg by now?”

Freddy thought that was pretty funny, but Lawrence didn’t laugh. He was still chewing. When he finally swallowed, Freddy glanced toward Billy’s table. Billy was watching them like a hawk, hands spread on the top of the table where he was sitting, shoulders pressed forward like he was ready to leap up and use his Shazam powers on this motherfucker any moment now. 

“Man, you look great,” Lawrence said, and Freddy dragged his gaze back to him, embarrassed and sort of hating himself for liking that he’d said so. As if his opinion was some big deal. “How’ve you been, kiddo?”

“Please don’t call me that. I’ve been good.” 

Was this true? He wasn’t even sure. Relatively speaking, yes, and in the sense that he had Billy, who right then felt like fucking everything, the only thing that mattered, because oh god the thought of doing this without him over there, without knowing he’d be there afterward no matter what happened-- 

“Yeah,” Lawrence said. He seemed distracted, kept looking down at his food. “So, that’s great. Listen, uh. I wanted to apologize, like I said. For everything. Man, I, um. I didn’t even get to go to your mom’s funeral.”

“Me either,” Freddy said, ready to kill him. What if he transformed? Just to show him, and laugh at his shock? 

“Really-- Oh? They didn’t--”

“Yeah, no, the people I was living with at the time didn’t find it to be a priority. So they didn’t take me. Shame about that, huh?”

Lawrence looked down at his fries longingly, then back up at Freddy. He nodded, and he at least looked ashamed of himself. Or maybe Freddy was imagining things. 

“I wish you coulda known her when she was your age,” Lawrence said, mumbling this in a way that Freddy didn’t want to find endearing. “She was, well. You knew her, obviously. She was still, when-- But.” He cleared his throat and shrugged, a weird smile coming onto his face when he looked up at Freddy again. “You with better people now?” he asked. “I saw, on your Facebook-- Looks like you’re having some happy times, good times?”

Freddy considered that Lawrence had seen Billy in these pictures, his smiling face close to Freddy’s in so many of his favorite ones, the ones he was proud enough to post. It was dizzying, thinking this, and kind of sickening. As if Freddy had exposed Billy to this guy’s judgment.

“I’m doing good, like I said,” Freddy said. “Because of them, yeah. My parents.”

“Oh, they adopted you?”

Well, that stung. Thanks, great. 

“No, but. It’s, just, it’s hard because when Victor was younger he got into some legal trouble--”

“Oh, shit.” Lawrence scoffed wetly and gulped from his glass of water. “Don’t have to tell me about that.”

“Yeah, I know I don’t.”

“Anyhow.” Lawrence put the water glass down hard and pushed the plate of food away, leaning toward Freddy with his elbows on the table in a way that made him want to lean back. Lawrence smelled like cigarettes and wet dog. “What I wanted to tell you about, also, was something that would kinda make up for all the shit I put you through that I want to atone for.”

Freddy said nothing. He already knew whatever came next wasn’t anything good. 

“See, like I told you, I’m moving to Arizona next month, and why is actually for this business opportunity that I think is gonna be real big, like--” His thick eyebrows went up and he lifted his hands to frame his face. “Like it’s gonna make me a millionaire big, okay, and I know that sounds--”

“Wait, really?” Freddy forces a laugh, hears himself sounding insane. “Are you-- Is this you asking me for money? Really?”

“No, no.” Lawrence’s face changes, gets mean, and, oh. Freddy remembers that face, suddenly, and feels the blood draining from his own face in response, his hands starting to shake under the table. “You’re not listening, look-- Yes, there’s an investment involved, which would be required if you were gonna get in on this, but this is a special opportunity, real rare, which is why I wanted to share it with you, since I owe you one.”

“Owe me one,” Freddy said, feeling two feet tall again. No, smaller. 

“Right, like I said, I wanted to kinda try to make some things up to you by helping you out and letting you in on this buy in. And it’s low right now, perfect time to do it, only five hundred bucks--”

“Hey, are you okay?”

Billy was suddenly standing at their booth, breathless, his hands in fists at his sides, so Freddy must have looked really fucked up even from across the room. Billy looked from him to Lawrence and quickly back again, wordlessly begging Freddy to tell him he was okay, or if not that he could kill this guy with his bare hands.

“Can we help you?” Lawrence asked sharply, and then he recognized Billy from the Facebook pictures. “Oh, uh, hey, sorry. Your brother?” he said, looking back to Freddy.

Which was somehow even worse than anything else he’d said so far. 

“I gotta go,” Freddy said. 

“Whoa, wait, huh?” Lawrence gave Billy an unfriendly look, then turned the same look on Freddy. “You just got here. Sit down, you haven’t even heard--”

“I don’t need to hear any more,” Freddy said, doing his accidentally grotesque imitation of laughter again. “You want, what-- You want five hundred dollars? From me? That’s the punchline?”

“It would be an investment,” Lawrence said, eyes hard like he knew now that he was getting nothing from this particular mark, so why bother not glaring at this defective kid he dumped long ago, apparently for good reason. “But maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Fuck off,” Billy said, pulling at Freddy’s arm to get him moving away from this disaster. “You fucking asshole.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, kid?” Lawrence asked, laughing. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“A strung out piece of shit,” Billy answered. “Obviously.”

Freddy was already walking away, vision tunneling to the door of the diner, just needing to get away from here. He didn’t even care in the moment if Billy picked a fistfight with Lawrence. He needed to be elsewhere, immediately, was all that mattered.

Though it did feel good, like something that also mattered, a lot, when Billy jogged over to catch up with him and held the door open for him. 

It was still raining. Neither of them spoke, but Billy kept hold of Freddy’s arm while they walked through the rain toward the station. It was the kind of thing that Freddy would normally shrug off with annoyance, but Billy didn’t seem like he was doing this because he thought Freddy needed physical support. It was more like Billy needed it, or needed to be holding on to some part of Freddy right then, to keep himself from turning on his heel and going back to that diner to bash that man’s head in.

The 1:15 train back to Philly was not a popular route, and the car they were in was totally empty except for them. Freddy took the window seat again. They were both shivering, soaking wet and freezing despite the train car’s heating. Freddy didn’t dare try to speak until they were pulling out of the station, and when he turned Billy spoke first, looking like he was going to cry.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Billy said, sort of whispering this like his voice wasn’t really working. “I-- I never should have-- You were right, and I told you--”

“Oh, hey, no, no!” Freddy was flooded with relief for the chance to comfort Billy, as he was nowhere near ready to deal with his own pain. “It’s fine, it wasn’t your fault! I would have gone anyway. I just-- I think I just wanted to hear stories about my mom or something.” He forced a laugh-like thing that was more barkish than anything. “But, you know. His memories are mostly of knocking her up at sixteen, so. Maybe it’s good we didn’t get to that.”

“Freddy,” Billy said, soft and broken.

Freddy shook his head sharply, glad to feel the train picking up speed around them, glad no one else was sitting in this car. He could feel the weird-ass attempt at a smile on his face and how it was probably making him look like a maniac, but he couldn’t seem to get rid of it. 

“Nah, it’s okay.” Freddy swallowed and shrugged. He looked out the window, but something about doing so made it harder not to cry, so he looked back at Billy, shrugged again. “Whatever, you know?”

“You know I know,” Billy said, and it was his red-rimmed eyes that broke Freddy, who could feel his bottom lip starting to shake in an unstoppable way.

“I just, ah--” Freddy tried to laugh again, but it only came out as an choppy exhale. “I just feel s-so fucking stupid? Like he said, like. I’m nuh-- Not so smart.”

He lost it, then, like: completely fucking lost it, crying harder than he maybe ever had, harder even than he had when he was alone in a corner of his room at eleven years old and trying to muffle it in his hands because he’d just been told that his mother was dead and it was pretty fucking clear that nobody in the world cared beyond their officially assigned-by-work duty of telling him so. 

Billy held him and cried a little, too, maybe-- Freddy was too fucked up to really be able to tell what was happening, except that he was sobbing so hard that it was like he was trying to choke up his bones one by one, so hard it physically hurt, and he couldn’t stop but didn’t even give a fuck, because Billy was holding him and whispering, _I know, I know_ , and he did know: Billy knew this pain so fucking precisely. There was nobody in the world who Freddy could ever possibly need as much as he needed Billy right then, his fist closed in front of Billy’s shirt while he lost it against Billy’s chest, re-soaking his already rain-soaked clothes with hot tears.

At some point he started to lose the energy to keep wrecking his body with sobs and just sniffled pathetically, clinging to Billy and bringing his wet face up to Billy’s throat, hiding it there. Billy stroked Freddy’s damp hair, nuzzled his face against Freddy’s forehead, sighed a lot and moaned a little, hurting along with him. Freddy started to feel actually, weirdly good, when he could finally pull his puffy eyes open enough to see through the blur of his tears. It was like he’d needed to do that: not the meetup, but the sobbing breakdown, which was more about his mother than that asshole back there in that diner and what had or hadn’t been willing to offer.

“Oh my god,” Freddy said, and he laughed a little, for real this time, at how fucked up his voice sounded. “I feel like I just luh, lost. Ten pounds of water weight.” 

Billy sniffed and rubbed his face against Freddy’s forehead again. 

“You can’t really spare ten pounds,” he said, his fingers still scratching softly through Freddy’s curls. 

Freddy steeled himself and lifted his face toward Billy’s, sniffling again. Billy kept both arms around him and shifted even closer. The tips of their noses touched. 

“Fuck him,” Billy said, voice wavering but not quite breaking. “Fuck all of them. You know, I. Sometimes I go see my mom, as him. As Red Cyclone.”

“I know.”

“You do?” Billy’s eyebrows went up. He sniffed. “Of course you do. Stalker.”

He reached up to cup Freddy’s cheek and wiped some new tears away, smiling as if he was glad that Freddy had spied on him.

“She doesn’t recognize me,” Billy said, his voice small and hard. “And it’s more than that, like. There’s nothing, you know-- I thought she might feel something, some kind of inkling of a bond? If I was this big, cool guy who could help her. Ha. No. She just tells me, my boyfriend can’t see you helping me. He’ll get mad.”

“Jesus,” Freddy said, hating himself for imagining those meetups might take Billy away from him. He lifted his hand to cup Billy’s cheek, stroking his thumb there as if Billy had tears to wipe away, too. He had, once, before Freddy could be there to dry them. 

A warm current of suddenly uncomplicated, undeniable closeness seemed to lift them into what happened next, and though it was Billy who leaned in to give Freddy a soft kiss on the lips, Freddy felt like he was doing it, too, following that warmth to its natural conclusion.

Freddy couldn’t even react before Billy did. Billy pulled back and gaped at Freddy with what looked like shock, horror, as if he’d just caught himself being possessed by a demon or one of those sins and now he was going to die for daring to do that, also like he thought he deserved to.

“Fuck,” Billy said. “Nuh-- No, I’m sorry, sorry, I ruined it, fuck, no, shit--”

“What-- What? No, here, c’mere.”

Billy was leaning away and Freddy was dragging him back by the collar of his jacket, just the iceberg tip of Freddy’s ecstatic relief surfacing within the endless ocean of all this other bullshit he was already feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said again, shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry, jesus, I never should have--”

“Fuck that!” Freddy said, loud enough that Billy went still, at least, and stopped trying to pull free from his grip. “You must, must know, I want--”

“But we can’t,” Billy whispered, eyes going red-rimmed again.

Because of course he knew. Freddy was not good at hiding what he felt.

“Billy, jesus christ.” Freddy swallowed and sat up straighter, ready to be the strong one here, or the more foolhardy one, or even just the one who needed this more. “If you want me, have me, like this, like anything, okay, it’s done now, you did it, finally, you took me out of my original best friend packaging. You can’t put me back in the box, the seal’s broken, it’s done.”

Billy raised his eyebrows, slowly, and gave Freddy a shaky, disbelieving little smile. 

“Did you just--” Billy said, smiling wider.

“What? What!” Freddy was panting his breath, losing his mind. There was a lot going on, and he needed Billy to be fucking clear. 

“That, like, metaphor,” Billy said. He laughed low in his chest and brought his hand back to Freddy’s cheek, leaning in close again, thank god. “Did you have that, like. Ready? On hand? For when I kissed you?”

“Fuck you,” Freddy said, beaming, because:

Well, yes.

He tugged Billy's collar again and grinned against Billy's lips when he gasped at the feeling of their mouths touching. Freddy had zero clue about how to kiss, so he just closed his eyes and licked softly at Billy's mouth, then again, already buzzing with a light-headed high from the taste of him and ready to do just this all day if Billy would let him. Billy pressed his tongue out to meet Freddy's and they both moaned at the contact, blinking their eyes open to peek at each other. Billy's hand was still on Freddy's cheek, and when he used his thumb to tip Freddy's face up toward his, Freddy closed his eyes and opened his lips, melting into the feeling of Billy finally having him like this, at the feeling of Billy's breath on his mouth and even inside it, hot and shaky and turned on. Freddy was sure he was kissing like a total amateur at best, but he didn’t give even half a shit because oh god it felt good, Billy was so good at this, amazing at this, licking into Freddy’s mouth perfect and slow and then hungrier, moaning against his lips--

“We really can’t, though,” Billy said, pulling free to give Freddy a devastated look that Freddy was ready to do battle with at all costs, ‘cause nope. No.

“Why the hell not?” Freddy asked, barking this out so shamelessly that he saw Billy almost laugh before he went back to frowning and scoffed.

“Because!” Billy said, eyes widening like Freddy was being slow. “Because, we’re. We’re supposed to be--”

“Fuck whatever you’re about to say, because we’re supposed to be this and I know you feel it, too.” 

He was never going to let some fuckhead who didn’t know what he was talking about call Billy his brother ever again.

Freddy saw Billy’s pupils fatten and heard his breath coming faster. It was the first signal he got, in a series of signals that would take him too long to interpret but would result in something truly fucking phenomenal once he finally did, that Billy liked it when Freddy was the aggressive one, calling the shots, telling him what to do. And that ‘liked it’ would be putting it mildly.

They kissed again, frantic with teeth clacking at first and then calmer, more tenderly, maybe as they both remembered that the train’s next stop was a good bit away and they had this car all to themselves-- That they had each other all to themselves, like this, finally.

“God,” Freddy kept saying, his voice still a mess from that sobbing jag. “Billy, just. Just--”

“I know,” Billy said, breathing this out, and again Freddy loved him so much for it, because he felt it when Billy’s tongue slipped soft, wet, and needy against his: Billy did know. He knew exactly how bad and how long it had hurt not to let themselves have this. He'd known the whole time, all along. 

Which made Freddy hope, while they kissed until their lips were sore and throbbing, until the train neared Philly and a few people finally boarded their car, that they would both always know, going forward, that there was no point in denying themselves any part of this, that doing so would only just hurt too bad to bear. 

Once they had company on the train car, they sat staring forward at the seats in front of them, both breathing in long, slow, shaky exhales, trying to make themselves calm down. Freddy was hard in his pants and afraid to look down and see if Billy was, afraid he would do something fucking crazy if he spotted Billy’s tented erection. At one point, close to their stop, Billy reached over to stroke the skin on the underside of Freddy’s wrist, his gaze still pointed forward at the seat in front of him. Freddy closed his eyes, whimpered, and Billy’s answering whimper was like a big band-aid that fixed everything that still ached in Freddy’s long-suffering heart, because it was like hearing: oh god, me too, always, yes, same here.

When they got off the train they both sort of stumbled around brainlessly before remembering that their plan was to transform and fly home. Freddy tried to get himself to return to reality, digging out his phone and checking the time. There was still an hour before they were due home, post-“school.”

“So what do we do now?” Freddy blurted, unwisely, lifting his gaze to Billy’s.

Billy looked lost, frightened, unsure. He shook his head, also wondering.

Freddy should have known then that he would always have to be the one to decide: this is what we’re going to do, when, how hard or not, how often, and that Billy would be so glad to let him make those calls, in most cases.

But in it took him a while to figure this out, and in some ways he was still coming to terms with how true it was when everything newly went to shit, thirteen years later and on the threshold of the biggest thing they would ever do together, as superheroes and otherwise.

 

**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay well first of all writing this chapter is the only thing I've done for the past three days, lol.
> 
> It's actually another chapter from their past, as all of these events were originally planned for inclusion in Chapter 4, but once that one hit 11k at the point of their first kiss, I figured that was a good end cap and that I would get into the rest of what happened next after checking in on them in the present-- however!! As the next present action chapter is the [HARD CUT TO GRAYSON MANOR], I thought these details worked better going ahead of that part, to give context and to make it so that the next chapter that returns to the past will flow into the more dramatic/disruptive beats of the narrative better.
> 
> And then of course this chapter got super long, too, woo boy but I had a blast writing it and hope all who are following along will enjoy reading it! Thanks again to everyone who is. <3
> 
>  
> 
> **

Sometimes having the Shazam powers rewarded Freddy with little unexpected miracles, and the fact that his disastrously puffy eyes looked normal again after they’d flown from the train station to their neighborhood to transform back was one of these times. His clothes and hair were dry, too, and so were Billy’s. They were both exhausted but restless with new energy at the same time, every little look they exchanged giving Freddy a sharp jab of heat low in his gut-region. This had been the case for a while, but knowing that Billy was feeling it, too, had Freddy swallowing down a crazed impulse to whine like a needy animal every time it happened, because how the hell was Freddy so, so lucky after all, after living most of his life thinking he was anything but.

They didn’t say much on the walk home, too overwhelmed with their own thoughts after the events of the day, and Freddy wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen once they got there. Half of him hoped Rosa would be out at the store with Darla and Victor off working, so that they could get right the fuck to it in Freddy’s bottom bunk. The other half of him was so wrung out by the horrid experience in that booth at the diner followed so close by the massive catharsis of the near hour he’d spent kissing Billy on the train that he just wanted to sleep for two days and think about all this later, when his brain was fully functional again. 

“Oh god,” Billy muttered when they were in view of their house, standing on the cracked sidewalk across the street, and that was not the first hint Freddy got that Billy was going to have a big problem with this that Freddy just fucking didn’t. He knew Rosa and Victor wouldn’t let them share a room if they thought this was going on, and that was reason enough to keep it their dearest secret, but beyond that he figured they wouldn’t give a shit. They had been foster kids themselves, and they both knew what it was like to form a sibling bond with someone you shared a house with, or not, and that other kinds of bonds happened, too, especially when you met as teenagers. 

“It’s fine,” Freddy said, too tired to come up with any better reassurance than this. Rosa’s van was parked in the driveway, so she was home, and Darla would be back from school by then, too. “Look, it’s almost exactly three-thirty. Perfect timing for our grand entrance. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Billy said. He huffed a little laugh that made him seem more panicked than amused. “Yes? Are you?”

“Yeah, god, actually, uhhh. I feel really good? And not just ‘cause we--” He gestured between them and was giddy when Billy gave him a little grin. “I think that was overdue. Not meeting up with that asshole but the sobfest, after. Thanks for, like. Dealing with that.”

Billy sniffed and frowned a little. “You don’t have to thank me for things like that. Freddy, god. I fucking-- Belong to you, as far as I’m concerned.”

He flushed after saying so. Freddy felt his face getting hot, and he moved toward Billy with a kind of aimless, instinctual need to touch him after hearing that. Billy looked panicked again and stepped back, shaking his head. He glanced toward the house as if he was afraid someone might have seen that through the windows. 

“Careful,” Billy whispered. “Like, don’t. Seriously, Freddy--”

“Okay, sorry!” Freddy tried to think of something to say that would be anywhere near as good as ‘I fucking belong to you,’ and decided he was just too emotionally drained to come up with anything, that he would have to do it later. “Let’s go in, I’m cold.” 

Rosa called hello from the laundry room and asked if one of them could please take out the trash. Billy volunteered, and Freddy went upstairs to take a bath. He really wanted a shower, but it was too much of a pain with the crutch, and once he had sunk into the hot water he had to admit it felt pretty fucking phenomenal to just relax there and not need to use what was left of his sapped energy to even sit upright on the embarrassing plastic stool he had to use for showers. He felt pleasantly weightless with his head resting back on the rim of the tub and his eyes shut against the grayish late afternoon light that glowed over the line of the bathroom curtains. 

He’d always sort of resented his necessary baths, as if it meant he was still a little kid while everyone else in the house took showers, and also because it made jerking off noisy in a really conspicuous way, unless he did it super slowly, which took forever. Everyone else in the house who had occasion to jerk off in the shower-- just Billy, now --had the helpful camouflage of the water beating against the tub, so they could really go to town if they wanted, or make it quick when the occasion didn’t allow for a leisurely half hour stroke session, which in this house it almost never did.

Freddy laughed at himself and brought his wet hands up to his face. Of course he was thinking about jerking off with bitter seriousness, despite the emotional wreckage and then salvation he’d gone through in the past four hours. He wasn’t hard, at least, too tired to get a boner even for the hot water that usually made him stiffen up as soon as he sank into it.  

Then he let himself think about kissing Billy, that hour of breathless paradise that had ranged from wild, teeth-dragging need to tender little licks, until their lips were as puffy as Freddy’s sobbed-out eyelids from overuse, and his dick took notice instantly, twitching in its free float between his legs, then again, lifting toward the surface of the water. He groaned at himself and laughed again. 

He wouldn’t know, but was pretty sure Billy was a world class kisser. No wonder Starfire and a dozen or more others had gone for his lips over the years. He was so-- What? Responsive? Yes. He took the feedback he got from Freddy’s mouth and knew exactly what to do with it. Freddy snorted and put a washcloth over his face, thinking of it this way. He was too worn out to even have a sane thought process. The sleep he’d gotten the night before had been terrible, the few consecutive hours of it loaded with nightmares about the meetup going just as bad as it eventually did or worse, and also, again, about Sivana. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to have bad dreams about Sivana that felt like more like too-accurate memories of what had actually happened. They could have all been killed, and were all left shaken, but afterward felt mostly victorious because they had new powers, and they had used them to win. But before all that, before he had anything resembling power in contrast to what Sivana was already wielding, Freddy had been alone with that monster, certain that he was going to be murdered. He hadn’t disclosed the location of the family home, but Sivana threw him to the ground, ripped off his backpack and found the address on some form Freddy had stuffed down at the bottom of the bag at the start of the school year. While he did this, Freddy had lay on his side, hurting from being dropped and trying desperately to imagine what he might do to stop Sivana while he was distracted and searching through the bag, pretty sure that weakly wacking him with the crutch and trying to hobble away wasn’t going to get him far, considering Sivana’s supervillain status. 

He still hated the memories so much. They made him feel weak, remembering what it was like to experience that combination of terror and helplessness, and already afraid that the others would think he had given them up since Sivana found that paper. He’d braced himself to be blasted into dust when Sivana looked at him again, address in hand, and still wasn’t sure why Sivana didn’t kill him as a warning to the others to take him seriously. Freddy would never forget staring up into that glowing blue eye or the way Sivana had smiled, pleased that he’d found the address and looking like he was going to celebrate by killing Freddy as painfully as possible. Maybe he’d wanted to wait until he could do it in front of Billy, to break him.

And even after they beat him, got him locked up and powerless, in just a matter of months he somehow escaped. It made no sense: he didn’t have the sins or the eye anymore. But he was out there on the loose anyway, unheard from for years but definitely not gone for good. Freddy could feel it in his bones. Sivana would be back for all of them someday. 

Thinking about this entirely deflated Freddy’s developing boner, and he sat up to drain the tub, ready to be with Billy again. After he’d dried off he checked the hallway to make sure the coast was clear and walked to their bedroom in only the towel he had wrapped around his waist, hoping this wouldn’t seem forward. He just didn’t want to put his previously rain-soaked clothes back on, even though being in his super form had magically dried them. He kinda never wanted to wear the outfit he had on the presence of Lawrence again, actually.

He hurried down the hall in his towel, dirty clothes hugged to his chest, and shut the door behind him when he was inside. Billy was sitting at the desk, looking dazed. He scanned Freddy’s towel-clad body while Freddy stood uncertainly near the door, still clutching his dirty clothes like a shield. Not that he wanted to be shielded from Billy. He just wanted to respect Billy’s early-days, freaked out fear that Rosa and Victor were going to find out about this. Freddy figured-- incorrectly, it turned out --that Billy would chill about that after the initial shock and awe of finally letting themselves do things to each other wore off.

And, oh, Freddy thought, falling back against the door with a lurid grin. The things they were going to do to each other. 

Billy looked startled by this expression on Freddy’s face for a moment, then he laughed and shifted in the chair. 

“No,” Billy said, because of course he knew what Freddy was thinking. “Not while anybody else is awake. That’s our first rule, okay?”

Freddy moaned under his breath. Even the fact that they were going to make _rules_ about this was so fucking hot.

“Tell me another one,” Freddy said, lolling against the door in bliss just because they were home, they were doing this, and it was already perfect. 

“Another what?” Billy asked. “Rule?” 

“Yes, yes, please. Give it to me.”

“Shut up,” Billy said, laughing. “Get dressed, okay? I’m serious, uh. About rules, by the way.”

“You’re usually not the biggest fan of them,” Freddy said, going to his dresser. He peeked back over his shoulder to give Billy a wicked smirk. “I’m about to drop the towel,” he said. “Gonna watch?”

“Shh!” Billy said, and it hurt a little when he looked sincerely mad. He got up and stalked toward the door. “I’ll just-- I’ll be downstairs.” 

“No, wait, hey, sorry, ah. You’re right. Nothing when they’re awake. Not even joking about it, sure. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just--” Billy halted his steps and took a deep breath, his eyes wandering down to Freddy’s naked chest again when he exhaled. “I just. If you realized the things that go through my mind all the time already, god. It doesn’t take much, okay, and I don’t want to be walking around hard all the time. That’s no way to live.”

“Things?” Freddy said, wanting to hear more about exactly what Billy had been thinking about. Maybe his fantasies rivaled even Freddy’s, which ranged from the tenderest love confessions to absolute filth. 

“Just get dressed, okay? I’ll be at the computer.” 

“Typing up our list of rules?” Freddy asked, not sure if he was joking.

“It’s probably not a good idea to write them out, dude.”

When Freddy was dressed, he felt a new surge of nervous energy as he walked toward the desk, toward Billy. He wanted to lean down and wrap his arms around Billy from behind, hug him tight and kiss his neck, wanted to at least bury his face against the top of Billy’s head and breathe in the scent of his hair, but all of this would be breaking rule number one, so he just leaned back against the desk, facing Billy in the chair, and smiled down at him, his breath a little rapid just for this. Billy gave him the sad eyes, then grinned. Freddy was pretty sure there was nothing in the world he liked better than the way Billy could look so desperate and pretty and almost helpless in a strange way, and then in a blink show Freddy that he was really okay, just sad-eyed by nature.

“So what’s rule number two?” Freddy asked, hoping to god it wouldn’t be a list of things Billy didn’t want to do to him, because Freddy wanted him to do everything. He wanted Billy to invent previously unknown sex acts for him, on him, with him, whatever, anything.

“Rule number two,” Billy said, looking serious, “Is we’re exclusive. Okay?”

“Oh my god, of course!” Freddy laughed in relief and felt himself flushing, already struggling pretty much nonstop to obey rule number one, because he wanted to fall into Billy’s lap, straddle him, and kiss that ridiculously grave expression off his face. “You really think that’s gonna be an issue for me?”

“I just want to be clear, from the start,” Billy said, still looking hilariously serious. “I’m not going to be with anyone else from now on, and I don’t want you to be, either.”

Freddy had to hold in more wild laughter, not wanting to hurt Billy’s feelings, but really, what the fuck? He thought _Freddy_ might have a problem obeying this rule? Amazing. 

“Are you kidding me?” Freddy said when he’d calmed down enough to feel nothing but relief. “I don’t ever want to touch anyone but you for the rest of my life!” He heard how dramatic and perhaps pathetic that sounded and blushed, shrugged. “So, that’s me. That’s where I’m at.”

Billy nodded and swallowed visibly, his hands twitching over his knees. He tightened them until his knuckles whitened, and watching him struggle to obey his own rule, to not to touch Freddy just yet, to wait until later, was the most heartrending, tortuous pleasure. Despite the solid desk under his ass, Freddy felt like he was going to fall over. 

“So, how about you?” Billy said, blinking the haze out of his eyes. “What are your rules?”

“I guess we’re both going against type here, because other than those two you mentioned, I’m in more of a no-rules-at-all kind of place with, um, how bad I want to like, just go crazy on each other, but, you know. I’ll let you know if I think of some.”

“Go crazy on each other,” Billy said, and he grinned, both making fun of Freddy’s phrasing and going pink across his nose like he was into that idea, too. 

“Boys?” Rosa called from out on the stairs, startling both of them. 

Billy sprang out of the chair as if even sitting there and staring up at Freddy with certain things on his mind was going to get them caught. He bolted for the door and opened it with over-obvious urgency to show Rosa that he wasn’t doing anything in there, honest. 

At the time, Freddy pinched his eyes shut and laughed under his breath, finding this adorable.

It would pretty quickly get not-adorable, but on that first night Billy could do no wrong in Freddy’s eyes. They were both drowsy and punch-drunk at the dinner table, laughing too much at every cheesy joke that Victor made or cute comment from Darla, and at one point Freddy was sure they were going to get called out by Rosa, though he wasn’t sure what she would have said: wait, are you two in love? ‘Cause you look like you’re majorly in love, just saying. 

By the time everyone was brushing their teeth and preparing for bed, Freddy could barely hold a toothbrush without fumbling it, clumsy with a combination of emotional exhaustion and excitement that was so potent he felt drunk. 

“Hey, I’ve still never been drunk,” Freddy said, thinking out loud when he and Billy were finally alone in their room together with the door shut. It had nothing to do with anything, but Freddy needed to say something to diffuse the tension. 

Billy was looking at him like he wanted everything and was afraid of taking anything, and Freddy was realizing that Billy had been looking at him like this for so long, maybe even before that day when they made the plan to take the train to New York for Freddy’s birthday.

“Drunk?” Billy said. He was lingering near the door, watching Freddy, who was sitting on his bed wearing his usual wintertime pajamas: sweatpants and a t-shirt. He flushed, wondering if they would see each other naked that night. Would they do that right away? They were both so tired, fucking tapped out from the day they’d had, but there was no way they were going to wait till tomorrow to start this thing.

Right?

“Uhh, yeah,” Freddy said, having forgotten where he was going with this. “I just feel a little bit like I’m on something right now, ha. So wired and, I don’t know. Foggy-headed, too.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay! Jesus!” 

Freddy had never felt better. It was scary, actually, how good he felt, already, with Billy still just standing across the room and breathing hard, looking at Freddy like he was both a bomb Billy would have to diffuse and also like he wanted nothing more than to be exploded by this bomb at the center of his life. 

“Lights out, guys,” Victor called, walking by outside their closed bedroom door.

Billy’s eyes got huge, and he raced for the light switch, snapped it off. 

Freddy snorted. 

“You dork,” he whispered. “Calm down.”

“Shut up,” Billy said, heading for the top bunk. “Not yet.”

“Obviously,” Freddy said, his voice breaking a little for what that statement implied. 

Not yet, but soon, tonight, when the house went quiet, and oh, god. Freddy was hard as soon as he stretched out on his back in the dark with his hands on his belly, staring up at the bottom of Billy’s bed and picturing him up there, like he had so many times before, previously always deciding that Billy was unaffected, asleep, but now pretty fucking sure that he was getting hard, too, just for waiting to see what would happen next. When Freddy held his own stormy breath he could hear Billy’s, and his hips twitched upward as if he could rub his dick against that sound. 

Freddy closed his eyes, listening for Billy’s breath and pushing a hand up under his shirt, chewing on his bottom lip and rubbing at his nipples as they hardened against his fingers, having to chew down hysterical laughter of continued disbelief that he was actually going to get what he wanted more than anything. He wanted to palm his dick through his tented sweatpants, but made himself wait. He was already going to go off as soon as Billy touched him, didn’t need to drag himself any closer before then. 

Just as the house went quiet in its familiar way, once Rosa and Victor had retired to their room and the glow of all the lights in the house was gone from under the bottom of their bedroom door, a spray of what sounded like gravel pinged against the window and then fell more heavily, bouncing off the roof overhead with a very welcome clatter of continuous noise. It was hail that quickly transformed into a pounding onslaught of sleet, and Freddy had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing when he realized that even the fucking _sound of sleet_ was turning him on, every little bit of frozen rain that struck their window feeling like it was reverberating against his skin, pricking him into action.

“Billy?” he whispered. 

Briefly, he feared Billy had fallen asleep. Would Freddy wake him up for sex? Was he that shameless, desperate, greedy-- 

“Yeah?” Billy whispered back. 

He sounded terrified. Freddy wasn’t proud of himself for finding this hot, but there it was. He’d calm Billy down soon, anyway. Or wind him up worse. Oh, god. Why weren’t they already on each other?

“Come here,” Freddy said, more sharply than he’d meant to.  

He expected Billy to hesitate, sigh, mope his way sadly into his Freddy’s bed. Instead, Billy swung himself over the side of the top bunk and down into Freddy’s bed with cat-like stealth, as if he’d _practiced_ this, and before Freddy could even exhale Billy was kneeling up over him on all fours, eyes dark with want and breath coming fast. Freddy made a sound of awed admiration or appreciation, or both, and glanced down between their bodies, moaning when he saw Billy was hard inside the pair of baggy shorts he always wore to bed. 

“Please,” Freddy said when he looked up at Billy’s face again, and Billy knew what was he asking for. He brought his body down onto Freddy’s, slowly, both of them gaping at each other a little and reveling in the feeling of the other’s body heat. Freddy mashed his mouth shut to keep from moaning loud enough to shake the foundations of the house when Billy’s erection dragged against his, buffered by their clothes but already so fucking good and close and hot that Freddy was sure he would come as soon as he twitched his hips up. 

“Oh,” Billy whispered, sweeping Freddy’s curls back with one hand, his breath choppy on Freddy’s burning cheek. “Fuck, _yes_. Freddy.” 

“Nhnn.” Freddy couldn’t speak. He didn’t actually come for the first upward roll of his hips that dragged his cock even more firmly against Billy’s, but he was close. “Kiss me,” he said, begging. Billy whimpered a little, nodded, and did as he’d asked. 

Freddy had thought it couldn’t get better than it had been on the train, at least when it came to the kissing itself, but it was fucking mind-blowing to lap at each other’s wet, panting mouths while they rubbed together from their ankles to their shoulders: cautiously, slow, both of of them shaking and close and not ready for this first, precious thing to end. Freddy reached down and grabbed Billy’s hips, holding him even closer. Billy broke their kiss to bring his face to Freddy’s throat and sucked Freddy’s skin into his mouth, then dragged his teeth over the wet heat he’d left there, panting. 

“Fuh, fuh, fuck--” Freddy said, letting his hips go wild because fuck it, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to come.

“Shhh,” Billy said, whispering this right into Freddy’s ear, and that was it, there was no going back: Freddy failed to be completely silent when he came, but having his mouth crushed to Billy’s and attempting to kiss him while he unloaded into his sweatpants helped. 

“Buh, Billy--” he said, probably fifteen times from the start to finish of his orgasm, and when he wrenched his eyes back open he was almost afraid he was going to wake from a dream, because jesus that was too good to be real. But Billy was still there on top of him, grinning and heavy-lidded, touching Freddy’s hair and rubbing his cock against Freddy’s hip, red across the bridge of his nose.

“You,” Billy said, his voice not really working. “You, ah. God, you look cute. When you come.”

“Show me yours,” Freddy said, and when Billy’s eyebrows twitched up Freddy thought he looked surprised at how good Freddy was at dirty talk already. He had no idea how long Freddy had been practicing it in his mind, imagining all the things he’d say to get Billy off.

“Mm-- _Mmpf_ \--” Billy fucked himself against Freddy’s hip a little faster, ducked his head, and then remembered to lift his face so Freddy could see it when he came: his mouth dropped open and his eyebrows pulled together in a way that made it look like he was going to cry. He made a pinched noise at the back of his throat, as if it was a little painful not to scream his orgasm out the way he wanted to, and then he was shaking all over and dropping down onto Freddy, newly heavy with relief while his hips kept working his dick against Freddy’s leg as he emptied himself. Freddy could feel Billy’s cock pulsing against the inside of his thigh when he came, and his own spent dick twitched back toward hardness for the sensation, because, god, that was one thing he didn’t even think to fantasize about. 

“Holy sh-shit,” Freddy said, voice breaking. He kept wanting to burst into idiotic laughter. This was already too good to be real, and it was just the very _start_.

“Nnhh,” Billy said in what seemed like agreement, and he relaxed onto Freddy, letting all his weight press Freddy into the bed when they kissed, Freddy’s arms circling Billy’s neck as Billy spilled over onto his side, lying between Freddy and the wall. Freddy had dreamed of having him just there so many times: not just stretched out on the outer edge of the bed but really tucked in with him, safely secreted away, shaky with pleasure, kissing and close and sighing into Freddy’s mouth.  

The sleet continued to tick against the windows and pound the roof as they lay there just looking at each other with open wonder for a while, grinning and touching each other’s faces. Freddy was properly hard again already, which was maybe embarrassing, but he didn’t care anymore if Billy knew that all he had to do was breathe to turn Freddy on. Now it was part of something real, not just Freddy’s secret shame. Now it was this thing that they had together that felt so unbreakable. Freddy couldn’t imagine anything ever touching this kind of joy. It was too big and bright and he could feel it coming off of Billy in answering waves, just as real as the smell of oncoming rain. 

“I forgot to give you your back rub,” Billy whispered, and they both laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world. Freddy had no idea why: anything would have been, just then. They shushed each other, pressing their hands over each other’s mouths and laughing against each other’s palms, couldn’t stop for a while.

“I fucking live for that back rub,” Freddy whispered when he’d managed to stop cracking up. “By the way.”

“Me too. Here, roll over. I’ll do it now.” 

Freddy moaned, dizzy with pleasure for the thought of having both: the nightly back rub and Billy knowing exactly how it affected him, dear god. He closed his eyes and buried his lunatic grin against the pillow as he maintained the position, content to let his erection be pressed to the mattress for once, though he kind of wished there wasn’t cold come in his pants. 

“Can I take this off?” Billy asked, pushing up the hem of Freddy’s t-shirt. 

“God, yes,” Freddy said, coming up onto his elbows so Billy could help him get free of the shirt. He wondered if he should ask Billy to just take his pants off, too, but lost his nerve and hid his face in the pillow again instead, his skin prickling with goosebumps once he was bare-chested. 

“Jesus, your skin,” Billy said, whispering this against Freddy’s back before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Fish white and pasty?” Freddy said.

“Shut up, I’m obsessed with your skin.” Billy moaned and ran his hands over Freddy’s back in worshipful demonstration, making him shiver. “It’s so soft. It’s unreal.”

Freddy’s eyebrows went up against his pillow. He’d accepted that Billy loved him and wanted him but did he also actually find him hot? Kinda seemed so, suddenly.

“Ahh, yeah,” Freddy said, overcome with the relief of letting himself make noise while Billy started working on his sore muscles, which were screaming with the need of this today, after all that sobbing and tension. 

“Shhh,” Billy said, leaning down to whisper this against the back of Freddy’s ear. He laughed a little when Freddy whimpered at the memory of coming for that same soft shushing sound against his ear. It would always be his favorite orgasm, he decided. The first one Billy ever gave him. Though he was open to being newly impressed by all the future ones.

“God,” Freddy said, fist over his mouth to remind himself not to unleash the wanton moans that he still needed to swallow when Billy rubbed his back, now so that they wouldn’t be found out. “We have _school_ tomorrow. How is that even _possible_.” 

“It’s hell,” Billy said. “Having to go there every day and waste time doing nothing, all that pointless hall pass shit that’s supposed to teach us how to be obedient workers. Freddy. You don’t even know half of how much I hate it.”

Freddy sighed. This again. 

“I think I have some idea, actually,” he said. “Anyway, _ah_ , yeah-- I meant, mmph, _oh_ , yes, there, nhnn-- I meant-- Just-- This day felt, s _ah_ \-- So long--”

“Do you get hard when I do this?” Billy asked, and Freddy could hear his grin. 

“Oh, god, what do you think? I get so hard that I feel like I’ll die from it. Could you always tell? Did you know?”

“I sorta suspected, because of the way your breath changes. And, like, hitches, sometimes.”

Billy sighed as if he loved those little breath hitches a lot. Freddy was grinning so hard against the pillow that he felt like he’d injure his facial muscles with this new happiness that was too big to be expressed physically. 

“You’re so good at this,” Freddy said, melting when Billy’s thumbs moved down the length of his spine, framing it with perfect pressure. “And, I’m. I’m really fucking grateful, okay?”

“I told you.” Billy leaned down to kiss the back of Freddy’s neck. He licked him there and laughed under his breath when doing so got a breath hitch out of Freddy. “You don’t have to thank me for this kind of stuff,” he said, his lips moving on Freddy’s skin. “I love it. It’s for me as much as you.” 

Freddy turned this over in his mind, feeling like he did when he was flying, like everything was suddenly effortless and the whole world was laid out beneath him, anything possible. So Billy liked doing things for him, had waited up there in bed until Freddy had asked him to come down, and as soon as Freddy gave the word he’d literally thrown himself into Freddy’s bed.

Huh. Interesting.

When he couldn’t stand not looking at Billy any longer, now that he could finally let everything he was feeling show on his face, Freddy rolled over underneath him. Billy was hard again, too. Freddy had felt it when Billy straddled his back and thighs during the back rub. 

“How about you?” Freddy asked, lifting his hand but not daring to touch yet, hips already twitching upward. “Ah, um. Did you ever get hard for rubbing my back? I mean.” He grinned and looked down at Billy’s tented shorts. “Before now?”

“Why do you think I always bolted into my bed before you could turn over?” 

“Oh, god, Billy--” Freddy moaned and arched his back. They both gasped when their tented erections brushed together. “We could have been doing this for the past _year_ , what the hell.” 

“Yeah.” Billy looked sad about it, too, or maybe that was just his eyes doing their thing. “But there’s still a ton of life left to live, and pretty soon it won’t be under the roof of two people we’re, like, betraying, by doing this.”

“What?” Freddy frowned, scoffed. “How-- Huh? How is this a betrayal of anything?”

“Well, ‘cause-- It’s obvious, isn’t it? They think of us as--”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to renegotiate the way they think of us if we explained to them that we don’t see each other as brothers. It’s not like we ever call each other that. They don’t even call us that!” 

“People at school do.”

“So what? What the fuck do they know about any of it?”

Freddy was annoyed that he could be this irritated by Billy while still so hard for him, huffing his breath and struggling not to lift his hips and drag his cock against Billy’s again, at least not until Billy stopped acting like Rosa and Victor would throw him out of the house if they found out about this. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Billy said, and he swallowed heavily. “At least, not right now, um. I need-- I’m pretty-- Close, again, actually.” He exhaled and licked his lips.

Freddy stared up at him in awe, all forgiven. He nodded.

“Take off your shirt?” Freddy said, not even sure if he was ready for this. He’d of course seen Billy shirtless here and there over the years, but he’d been so careful not to stare. Now he just wanted to stare for hours, also touch.

Billy grinned as if to say, oh yeah, get ready for this. 

Freddy thought of that stupid locker decoration as Billy peeled his shirt off, probably more slowly than he needed to, clearly enjoying the fact that Freddy’s eyes were blown with new hunger and his mouth was hanging open. 

_Billy Batson you are by far the hottest boy in this school._

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that, whoever she was. Or he? Freddy sucked in his breath and stared, letting himself enjoy the fact that he was the one who got to see Billy shirtless and perfect and straddling him, hard for him, close to coming for him and letting him stare, not whoever wasted two bucks on that locker decoration. No one else was going to be in Freddy’s place anytime soon, in fact. Billy said so himself. 

“Jesus, Freddy,” Billy said, preening and shifting his hips so their dicks brushed together again. “You realize you can touch me, right?”

“Hah,” Freddy said, having lost his ability to come up with cool retorts. He lifted his hands and sucked in his breath as they came to rest on Billy’s bare thighs. Billy was so warm under Freddy’s palms, trembling a little with arousal and fucking perfect, all firm muscle with just the right amount of give when Freddy squeezed his fingers in greedily. The shorts Billy was wearing were loose and too long, covering too much of the skin Freddy wanted to touch. Billy moaned in approval when Freddy reached up into them to feel more of him, all the way to the softest skin on the insides of his thighs, where he wasn’t just warm but hot, slightly damp with sweat. Billy opened his legs wider for Freddy’s touch and started rocking his straining cock forward against Freddy’s again.

“Yeah,” Billy said, breathing this out and throwing his head back as far as he could, until it smacked on the underside of his bed. He curled forward toward Freddy again, wincing. “Ow.” 

Freddy snickered a little and ran his hands up higher, over the outside of the shorts now, then above their elastic waistband and onto the flat, smooth pane of Billy’s stomach that Freddy had obsessively fantasized about licking for far too long. He heard himself making a desperate little whining noise as he stroked Billy’s sides, but he didn’t really care about humiliating himself at the moment, too obsessed with the texture of the lean muscles under his hands to care about anything else. They locked eyes when Freddy moved his hands up higher, pressing his palms against Billy’s peaked nipples and licking his lips when he saw how gone Billy looked already, again, shaking harder and rutting against Freddy’s dick with his own, getting him close, too.

“Can I--” Freddy tried to ask, his voice dying at the back of his throat when Billy shoved his hips forward in a way that felt particularly good.

“Yes,” Billy said hoarsely, nodding, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck _yes_ , Freddy, do anything, anything you want.” 

Freddy moaned and brought one hand down to cup Billy’s tented dick. He moaned again when he felt how damp Billy’s thin shorts were, from his last orgasm and from precome that seemed to be leaking from him steadily now. 

“Fuck,” Billy said, eyes pinched shut tight. He whined and leaned forward, breathing hard onto Freddy’s face. “I’m gonna--”

“Yes, yeah, I want you to,” Freddy said, sharply, the same way he’d said _Come here_ when Billy was still up there in bed waiting for Freddy to tell him what to do.

Billy opened his mouth in a silent cry, going tense all over and then loose in Freddy’s grip, tipping forward so that his forehead was pressed to Freddy’s while he shuddered violently, his cock pulsing against Freddy’s squeezing hand as he soaked his shorts with come again. 

Freddy was right behind him: he opened his mouth for Billy’s wet post-orgasm kiss and found Billy’s hand, was still kissing him as he spread his legs, opening Billy’s wider around him in the process, and brought Billy’s hand down to his dick. Billy sucked in his breath and gripped Freddy hard through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand against Freddy with mindless enthusiasm, his fingers twisting to grasp him as best he could through the fabric. Freddy made a squeaking sound against Billy’s mouth when he came again, back bowing.

“Yuh, yeah,” Freddy heard himself saying. He was sweaty as fuck after his second orgasm, and this sweat-soaked, overheated feeling had seemed to happen all in an instant, maybe from the heat of Billy closing around him after they’d both finished, completely spent and still hot to the touch. Billy was breathless, kissing Freddy’s cheek and then kind of sucking one of Freddy’s damp curls into his mouth, maybe on purpose or maybe just because his mind was offline for the moment. When he let himself fully collapse down onto Freddy, arms shaking, Freddy held him there, wanting Billy to fall asleep on top of him, wanting to live the rest of his life with Billy’s weight pressing him down like this. 

They lay there in silence for a while, their heavy breathing beginning to calm as the sweat cooled on their skin and they gave each other soft, random touches with tired fingers, not wanting to stop but not really having the energy to move much at all by that point. The sleet had stopped outside, transforming into a quiet, drippy rain. Billy slid off of Freddy partway, still holding him, and this time he had his back to the room, with Freddy being the one who was huddled between Billy and the wall. This felt good, too, safe and nice and cozy, but Freddy preferred it the other way around, maybe just because it meant Billy was that much further from leaving his bed. 

“I gotta take these pants off,” Freddy said, though he had absolutely no juice left in his tank for even wriggling out of them, nor did he want the first time Billy saw him naked to be when he felt this ragged and come-smeared. Freddy’s eyelids were heavy, his breath slowing toward sleep, and he was starting to feel like maybe he’d just sleep in the disgusting sweatpants, ‘cause otherwise he’d have to move. 

Billy looked half asleep, too, and he nodded, his forehead pressed to Freddy’s on the pillow. He sat up slowly and pushed his sweat-damp hair back off his forehead in the way Freddy loved so much. When Freddy pawed weakly at Billy’s side, Billy reached down to push his fingers through Freddy’s curls in the same way. Freddy beamed and let his eyes fall shut. Every new touch from Billy was going to be a miracle.

Billy got out of bed, and Freddy watched through his lashes as he went to the dresser for clean clothes. At the dresser, Billy pushed his shorts down, then turned his cheek toward the bed to make sure Freddy was fighting as hard as he could keep his eyes open and ogle his ass. Billy grinned when he saw this was the case, cleaning his dick and thighs off with the dirty shorts before pitching them into the hamper. He put on a fresh pair without turning, and Freddy wondered if he was still shy about turning and giving a full frontal or was just trying to put an end to their shenanigans for the night, as if Freddy could muster the energy to do anything else anyway. Freddy had no idea why Billy would be shy about showing off his dick, though. He could tell even from that fumbling make out that it was big, perfect, like the rest of him. 

“Here,” Billy said, walking back to the bed when he was dressed in the clean shorts and a t-shirt. He had one of each for Freddy, boxers instead of shorts in his case. “Gotta go take a leak,” he whispered, kissing Freddy’s forehead after saying so in a way that made Freddy laugh, because what a follow-up to everything else they’d said, done. 

Freddy was actually glad to be able to clean himself up in private while Billy was down the hall in the bathroom. He wasn’t in love with his how bad leg looked, for one, and kind of wished Billy had brought him sweatpants instead of boxers, though he was still feeling pretty warm and it wasn’t like Billy hadn’t seen his leg before. He stripped his sweat-damp, come soaked clothes off and put on the clean ones, and made himself stay upright in bed until Billy came back, so he wouldn’t pass out and miss the part where Billy cuddled up against him like he had after prom. He pulled the blankets over his legs and laughed under his breath when Billy slipped quietly back into the bedroom, as if even getting caught taking a piss in the state he was in would implicate them. 

“Goodnight,” Billy whispered, leaning down to give Freddy a little kiss on the lips. He lingered there, his face hovering in front of Freddy’s, and his sleepy smile faded a little when he saw Freddy looking confused, because, what, why-- Why wasn’t Billy getting back into bed with him? Billy was standing there with one hand on the top bunk like he was about to vault himself into it.

“Stay?” Freddy said, grabbing Billy’s arm, genuinely shocked that Billy wasn’t already back in his bed and wrapped around him. “I, I mean-- You can? If you want to? I don’t take up that much room.”

“Freddy,” Billy said, his face still close enough that Freddy felt his little huff of warm breath against his cheek. “That door doesn’t lock.” As if Freddy didn’t know this and hadn’t dealt with guilty angst about wishing it did for years before Billy got here. “I can’t sleep with you. What if we both slept through the alarm? We’ve done it before. They’d find us together.” 

Freddy considered this and nodded, slowly. If they were caught holding each other, he didn’t think Rosa and Victor would be upset. He actually thought they might be happy for them. But there was no doubt they’d lose room-sharing privileges, and that would be a nightmare, right here at the start of everything they could otherwise do to each other in here, late at night, in secret. Freddy didn’t often sleep past the alarm, though. In fact, he could only remember it happening once. 

Billy sighed and sat on the bed with Freddy when he saw that he was upset. He reached for Freddy’s hand and rubbed his thumb over Freddy’s wrist, eyes downcast. 

“You’re so tired, dude,” Billy said. “I am, too. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”

But Freddy felt suddenly wide awake again, and like Billy had just gently inserted a knife into his gut and told him not to worry about it until the morning. So many of Freddy’s fantasies were about just waking up and having Billy there with him, wrapped around him or at least within reach, not too far away to touch or even see, up in the bed above him. 

“I want it, too,” Billy said, as if Freddy had said all this out loud. When Billy lifted his gaze to Freddy’s, he could see that Billy meant it, was telling the truth, that he was desperate to just collapse beside Freddy and push his thighs up behind Freddy’s the way he had that night. “I think about it a lot,” Billy said. “The night after prom. Did you-- You knew I was there, right? I thought you woke up, at one point.”

“I did,” Freddy said. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out too thick, the tiredness creeping back now. So Billy had been awake the whole time, holding him? Watching him sleep?

“It felt really good,” Billy said. “I loved it, god. I needed you so much, and you just. Let me have what I needed. That was the first night I let myself hope you might feel the same as me. That it wasn’t just me being messed up and broken and always finding some way to fuck up any good thing I had.” 

“Oh, please, you didn’t know I wanted you way before that?” Freddy shook his head and held Billy’s hand, tracing the bones on the underside of his wrist with his thumb. “But, yeah. That night, after prom. Me, too, I think about it, I-- I don’t know. I think--” He hesitated, because was he really going to say this out loud, could he? 

He met Billy’s gaze again and saw someone who would never judge him for any of it. 

“Maybe since I was a kid who didn’t get a lot of, uhh, affection, early on, to put it, like, real mildly.” Freddy attempted a laugh and resisted the urge to look away when he couldn’t really manage one. “It’s just like, like-- A drug, to me, almost. It’s like this feeling that goes straight into my veins and makes it seem like everything’s gonna be okay, no matter what, just being close to someone like that. Well, to you. ‘Cause I’ve never had it with anyone else. And I meant it when I said I don’t ever want it with anyone else,” he added, his voice getting softer with every word of that last part.

Billy made a noise under his breath that sounded like, _I know, me too_. He swooned in close and kissed Freddy, and somehow he was an even better kisser when he was so exhausted that he could barely stay upright, maybe because the way he kissed just then was so soft but needful at the same time, determined, in the way he coaxed Freddy’s lips apart with his tongue and licked him sweetly, like he was telling Freddy everything would be okay, he promised. Freddy sighed into it and slumped bonelessly in Billy’s arms, thinking he’d convinced Billy to stay in his bed by offering up that particular bloody shred of his heart, the one that had only ever been held like that by Billy. 

“I just really can’t, though,” Billy whispered when he pulled back, sad eyes in full affect. “Freddy, seriously. Like, I love you and I’d do anything for you, except mess up this family.” 

“It wouldn’t--”

“It would, and you know it. It would change things. They would look at me differently.”

“They-- What?” Freddy screwed up his face and pulled backward. “What are you _talking_ about?”

Billy’s sad eyes hardened a little. He wasn’t going to let this go, Freddy realized. Like, ever?

“You know I’m right,” Billy said. “If they caught me in bed with you, jesus christ. I’d be the guy who seduced their innocent kid.” 

“Okay, first of all.” Freddy couldn’t even imagine the expression on his face, and felt both jumpy with growing fear that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought and way too tired to be hearing this utter nonsense. “You’re their kid, too, and also innocent, or just as innocent as me, anyway.”

“I know they think of me as their kid,” Billy said. “But I’m still the new kid, or the newest one, anyway, the one who came in and made things weird in like twelve different ways. Fuck, and they don’t even know I gave Darla _super powers_ when she was _seven_. Which wasn’t exactly well thought out, and it’s a freakin’ miracle she’s actually done as we asked and not used them, as far as we know. And maybe you haven’t noticed that they stopped taking in kids after me? Even after Mary and Pedro moved out?”

“That’s because of what happened with Eugene!” Freddy said, wanting to throttle Billy for thinking like this about himself, about Rosa and Victor, and about what was happening between him and Freddy, as if it was some kind of unbalanced seduction. “They were more upset about losing him than they wanted us to know, so they decided to hold off on taking in new kids for a while. It has nothing to do with you!”  

“You don’t know that,” Billy said. “And I don’t-- Look, we’re way too fucking worn out to be getting into this right now. This is complicated shit with no easy answer. Just know that I wish to fucking god I could sleep with you, okay, and when we move out of here we’ll share a bed every night. But for now, no. I can’t. We have to keep this as secret as the powers. More, even. I would die if they looked at me different, if they knew what I’d done.” 

“Stop talking about this like it’s something you’re doing to me!”

“Shhh! Freddy--”

“No, you shithead, ‘cause you need to hear this! I’m not some innocent victim of your seduction! Go fuck yourself if you think so! I’m two months older than you, Billy!”

Billy laughed a little under his breath, presumably at Freddy’s declaration of his superior two month maturity. Freddy shoved him, still mad. 

“Sorry,” Billy muttered, trying to bite away his grin. “That just, uh. Sounded funny, the way you said that.” 

Freddy shoved him again and dropped onto his back in bed, moaning. He put his hands over his tired eyes, realizing he would never make it through the school day without falling asleep at his desk. 

“I know you’re not my innocent victim,” Billy said. “Sorry I made it sound like that, that’s not what I think at all. It’s just a matter of how they see you versus how they see me. I know they love us both,” Billy said, hurrying this out when Freddy opened his mouth to say so. “I know. But you know what I mean, man. I would still be the one who came in and changed things, the one who made it weird. Please, just try to understand how I feel.” 

“You said you love me, before,” Freddy said, his palms still pressed over his eyes. “So I guess that’s part of how you feel.”

“Yeah, I did, and it is. I feel that more than fucking anything, have for years.”

“Oh, god,” Freddy said, warm in his chest again and pulling his hands away from his face. “Me too. I should also tell you that there was like a whole year of my life where it felt like all I did was jack off thinking about your Captain Sparklefingers body. Sorry.”

Billy grinned, and for once there was nothing sad in his eyes at all, not even a little. They were something else, suddenly and entirely. Shining. 

“But the real point is that I love you a lot,” Freddy said, his expression probably still a little pissed-off, as if this was a point he was making in their argument. God, he needed to sleep. “Like, it almost knocks me over, sometimes. Right onto my ass.”

“Same here.” 

Billy leaned in to kiss him. Freddy opened his lips for it and closed his eyes, too tired to even lift his arms and put them around Billy, also not wanting him to think that if he did it would count as more begging for him to stay, stay, please stay.

Billy seemed in danger of passing out mid-kiss, which would have pleased Freddy a great deal, but he managed to pull free and gave Freddy’s curls one last stroke before going up to his own bed and settling in there with a sigh that Freddy figured he was probably supposed to hear, as if he needed more evidence that Billy was miserable about not being able to sleep in his bed. 

Freddy rolled onto his side, already close to sleep despite everything. He felt like he’d lived a whole lifetime in the past twenty-four hours, and also felt very greedy, because he wanted more. Not just tomorrow but now. He felt like he must be defective on some new level for having everything they’d already done together, and all that was still to come, and still feeling sad just because Billy wasn’t pressed up behind him and sighing against his neck, his heavy arm tucked around Freddy’s waist while they both came down from the double-feature thrill ride that had just taken place in this bed. 

He told himself to stop being such a fucking brat, to get over it and to start counting his lucky stars like they were fence-jumping sheep. Doing so helped him drop into sleep at last, and all the stars in his fade-to-black sky were Billy, Billy, Billy again.

 

**

By Freddy’s eighteenth birthday they had developed a routine, if such a mundane word could even be applied to the most exciting aspect of Freddy’s pretty uniquely exciting life. By day, they acted like everything was just as it had been before, even when they were alone together, walking home from school or parked in the van outside Darla’s dance class, waiting to give her a lift home. It made Freddy shaky, the pretending and the way they had to sort of avoid each other’s eyes or risk getting caught up in some moment that would make them both breathe harder and want too much. He knew it was smart, the only option really, and he wasn’t into public affection, anyway. There were parts of him that even liked the secrecy of it, at least for now. It was hot, in a fucked up way, and made it so, so good when they finally broke, in the dead quiet of the dark house, and fell onto each other in Freddy’s bed. 

Still, something about it made him nervous, as if keeping it so dutifully hidden only made it half-real, their actual being-together only existing at night, in a kind of dream world, whether they were in Freddy’s bed together or out flying around with their powers. 

Billy had started patrolling more often and blowing off school frequently enough to make Freddy panic, though he was almost afraid to bring it up, afraid that if they snapped at each other about it during the day it would spoil the hours of the night that he looked forward to with a kind of dazed, panting obsession. Freddy was still only going out on patrol as Blue Bullet on Saturdays, and sometimes Fridays, if the school day hadn’t completely exhausted him. He was taking almost a full load of honors classes and still working at least fifteen hours a week at the theater, trying to save up as much as he could for all the expenses that were soon to come. 

Two days after his eighteenth birthday, which involved just the family dinner at Rocko’s and no trip to New York, as trips to New York still felt too heavy after the events there in February, Rosa met him at the door with a smile when he came home from school alone, Billy having gone straight to his shift at the hardware store after school.

“Got some mail for you,” Rosa said, and Freddy gasped like a dork when she held up a thick, oversized envelope that had to be a college acceptance packet.

“Is it--”

“It’s got a Penn State return address,” she said, beaming and handing to him. “So, yep.”

“Oh my god, oh-- Okay, holy shit-- I mean, sorry--”

“You can curse, it’s a special occasion. Come on in, let’s see what they’re offering.”

“You think they’re, they’re offering something?”

“They’d better be,” she said, reaching up to ruffle Freddy’s hair as he walked into the house. “They’d be lucky to have you.”

Freddy sat at the kitchen table, red-faced with a kind of giddy near-embarrassment over what they did offer in the fat packet of congratulations: a full scholarship, all expenses paid. He and Billy had joked that with the combination of Freddy’s grades, test scores, points-getting physical disability and sad sack backstory, he’d be rolling in scholarship money, but Freddy hadn’t really let himself believe it until he was holding the proof in his hands, Rosa leaning down to kiss his cheek when he teared up a little.

“I am so proud of you,” she said, squeezing his shoulders, a little teary-voiced herself. “Freddy, this is incredible. Your first choice school, too. And not too far from home,” she added, giving his shoulders another squeeze. 

The words _far from home_ made Freddy think of Billy, and his soaring sense of achievement dampened a little. Billy’s school night patrols and skipped classes habit had started around the time Freddy got his first few acceptance letters and scholarship offers, from other schools that he was less interested in but willing to attend if he couldn’t make it into or afford Penn State. Billy just shrugged and said he’d live in an apartment with Freddy near whatever school he ended up at, find a job nearby and focus as much of his time as he could on being a superhero. He had no ambitions beyond being the best Red Cyclone he could be, and Freddy respected that. It did seem to matter more than anything, the good they could do with their powers, as long as they were careful to hide their secret identities, too, which meant having enough of a life outside of super form to have one of those at all.

“This-- Hang on, this says I have to live in the freshmen dorms?” Freddy said, reading over the paperwork a second time. “If, if I accept the scholarship?”

“I think that’s pretty standard,” Rosa said. “Mary had that stipulation with her scholarship.” She laughed at the look on Freddy’s face. “Dorms aren’t so bad! I think they’re pretty luxe now, actually, at least compared to when I was in school. It’s part of the experience, you know, that’s why they want you to live there if they’re paying for you to go to their school. It helps you be committed to the program.” 

“Right, but. I don’t know, I guess, I just, uh. I thought I would, just. Have an apartment.”

“Honey, why? Apartments up around Penn State cost a fortune to rent.” Rosa would know; she’d gone there on a scholarship of her own, once. Freddy had of course mentioned this in his personal essay, which was mostly about how Rosa had saved his life and had become, increasingly, by default, in his thoughts, his real mother. He hadn’t let her read it yet, embarrassed and afraid it was corny. “You’ll be too busy with school to work more than part-time, if even that,” she said, putting her hand over Freddy’s and giving him a look like she didn’t understand why he was panicking about this, because of course she couldn’t. “This scholarship is generous enough that you could just focus on school, which I think would be good, at least in your first year.”

Freddy’s mind was whirling, already trying to find solutions for how he could have both: Billy and Penn State, the love of his life and the college experience he’d been dreaming of during every miserable day of public high school hell. Maybe he could do this dorm thing and Billy could still get an apartment nearby. Billy would just have to find some roommate other than Freddy, because it would be expensive, and Billy probably wasn’t going to land some cushy job right away. He was already in danger of not finishing high school this semester, failing two classes that Freddy knew of. 

“Freddy, baby?” Rosa said, using her sort-of pet name for him that only came out when she thought he looked depressed. Freddy had noticed over the years that she didn’t call any of the other kids ‘baby,’ though they all had their own endearments that got attached to their first names same as Freddy’s: _mi amor_ , angel, sweetheart, and so forth. Sweetheart was Billy’s. 

“You okay?” Rosa asked, sitting down at the kitchen table beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Billy,” Freddy said, because she knew enough about them to understand, without having to know all of it. Billy and Freddy were inseparable. The family joked about it all the time. Mary had even said they acted like an old married couple, more than once. 

“Yeah.” Rosa sighed. “How’s he doing? In school? I mean really, not just what he tells us-- Fine, fine, everything’s fine. That’s all we get from him. He’s been kind of distant lately, all smiles for us but not really fine, I don’t think.” 

“He just hates school so much. I don’t know, I’m worried.” Freddy hesitated, not wanting to rat Billy out. He shifted in his chair and met Rosa’s concerned eyes again. “I’ll try to help him, just. I was thinking about what would happen if he doesn’t graduate with me. He’d have to take summer classes.” And that would be best-case scenario. 

“He’ll figure things out,” Rosa said, rubbing Freddy’s hand on the table. “I know he’s your best friend, and I know how close you guys are.”

Oof, and it hurt to think that she didn’t, actually. Freddy had to look away, lips pursed. 

“But it’s not your responsibility to help him with school. It’s ours. I shouldn’t have let him pull back so much, or work so much at the store. He’s just so charming when he wants to be, he gives you that smile and gets away with murder, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Freddy muttered, eyes still averted. 

“I’ll talk to him. Maybe not tonight, you know, I don’t want him to feel worse if he’s already going to be feeling a little weird about you getting this offer. And I don’t want to take away from your big moment, either,” she said, squeezing Freddy’s hand. “‘Cause you’re going to accept, right?”

“Of course,” Freddy said, breathing this out. His excitement peeked back in, quickly see-sawing back to dread when he imagined telling Billy. “Let me tell him when he gets home from work, okay? He’ll be weird about it, yeah. But he’ll be happy for me, mostly. I think. I hope.”

“Oh, of course he will. Billy doesn’t have a jealous heart. He’ll be nervous about you two moving in separate directions, though, I imagine. Do you know what his plan is, for after high school? He always shrugged us off when we tried to talk to him about college. He just wants to work, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Freddy muttered, wishing he could tell her about the powers, so he could brag to her about all of Billy’s amazing exploits as Red Cyclone, and that he was good at being a superhero in a way that Freddy was in some ways still trying to master. Billy was a natural, at least once Freddy taught him the basics early on, before he had his own powers to grapple with.

Freddy went up to his room after requesting steak and baked potatoes for dinner when Rosa offered to make whatever he wanted in celebration of his acceptance. She was still off at the grocery store getting the supplies for the meal when Freddy heard Billy coming in downstairs. 

“Your shift’s over already?” Freddy said when Billy walked into the room, looking like he was maybe already not in a great mood.

“Phil got pissed off at me and sent me home.” Billy threw his backpack down harder than necessary and exhaled sharply, pushed his hand through his hair. “Don’t ask, ‘cause I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Oh-kay.” Freddy frowned, seated on the bed while Billy paced around, obviously still agitated about whatever disagreement he’d had with his manager at the hardware store. Usually they got along well, but both could be hotheads, and this wasn’t the first time Billy had been sent home early when trying to work a shift after a full school day that had followed a night spent patrolling and then fooling around with Freddy when he got back, all keyed up from superheroing and using Freddy’s body, with Freddy’s more than willing permission, to help him come down from it. It was a lot, and Billy looked exhausted when he met Freddy’s gaze, bags under his eyes. “C’mere,” Freddy said, patting the bed.

“Where’s--”

“Rosa’s at the store, Victor won’t even be home in time for dinner according to her, and we don’t have to pick Darla up for two hours. Come on, god, we finally have the house to ourselves, and. You look like you need a hug.”

Billy sniffed and smiled a little. He walked over to the bed with a sudden urgency and fell into Freddy’s waiting arms. They pulled each other close and Freddy squeezed the back of Billy’s neck in the way he knew Billy loved, holding on tight until Billy pulled free, but not to move away. Billy moaned when their eyes met, looking miserable, and collapsed wholly onto Freddy, curling as much of himself as he could into Freddy’s lap. 

“Am I hurting your hip?” Billy asked, murmuring this against Freddy’s thigh while Freddy pet his hair, which could use a wash. 

“Nope,” Freddy said, so giddy about being able to touch him in the light of day that he wouldn’t have complained even if he was. “Are you okay?” Freddy asked, needing to establish this before he broke the news about Penn State.

Billy sighed heavily and rubbed his face against Freddy’s thigh, eyes closed. 

“I am now,” he said. “Mph. Freddy.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I love you.” 

“Jesus, Billy,” Freddy said. They were always using this refrain to express disbelief with each other, either positive or negative. Freddy bent down to kiss Billy’s cheek in a series of urgent little pecks, letting their eyelashes brush together. “I love you, too. And you have to ease up on yourself, okay, please? You’re spreading yourself too thin. You’re not Superman,” he said, murmuring this joke against Billy’s skin with a smile and hoping he’d take it in the spirit it was intended.

Billy scoffed but was smiling, and he turned his cheek to look up at Freddy. It was one of those moments when Freddy almost couldn’t bear how much he loved Billy, as if the force of it was going to blast apart the structural integrity of his body or of some other, deeper thing, maybe his soul, which was always straining to contain his impossibly massive need to just give Billy everything he had, to somehow make it all okay for him.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, turning onto his back, head and shoulders still resting in Freddy’s lap. “You look-- Weird?”

Freddy took a deep breath and exhaled, telling himself this was going to go okay. It had to. They fought sometimes, but they were never cold with each other, never shut each other out, always slid back together so easily.

“I got into Penn State,” Freddy said, letting himself smile, because it felt really good to say so. “And they’re offering me a full scholarship. Everything covered. Can you fucking believe it?”

“Yes,” Billy said. He swallowed heavily and looked sad for a moment, but the smile that came next was real, too. “I knew you would. Freddy, holy shit. That’s awesome. You’re awesome, you know that?”

Freddy snorted and bent down to kiss him on the lips, overflowing with relief, because oh thank god, thank god, everything was really going to be okay. They would make it work. 

“Yeah,” Freddy said, pulling free from Billy’s mouth when he remembered there was a second part to this delicate announcement. “Um, the only shitty thing is that if I take the scholarship I have to live in the dorms.”

Billy shrugged one shoulder like this was nothing.

“So what?” he said. “That just means all your stuff will be there. You can still sleep at my place every night.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right!” Freddy laughed hard, because why didn’t he think of that? He was book smart, but sometimes overlooked the simplest solutions. “Okay, but, listen. Rosa says it’s expensive to live near Penn State, so. You’ll probably have to get, like--” He winced, knowing Billy wouldn’t like this. “Roommates?”

“Fuck that,” Billy said, laughing. “I’ll just get a dirt cheap place in some farm town out in the boonies, an hour away or whatever, if I even have to go that far. Who cares if I don’t live around the corner? We can fly, Freddy, remember? Like, with super speed?”

“Oh. Right.” Freddy laughed, just in a nervous giggle at first and then pretty hard, his eyes watering with relief when they kissed again. “Okay, yes, duh, you’re right. God, I love you so much.” He muttered this against Billy’s mouth, unable to hold it in. And why should he? They said it to each other a lot, and it was like their obsessive need for touching and tenderness after they both grew up without it. _I love you_ felt the same way, like they had years of not hearing it to make up for and both wanted to do that for each other more than anything.

“Can I ask you something, though?” Billy said when Freddy leaned back to beam down at him. 

“What?” Freddy asked, feeling like he was floating, like he was in his super form or even better, somehow both himself and Blue Bullet at the same time. Oh, everything was so good, finally. He was bursting at the seams with everything he had. 

Billy sat up and took a deep breath in a way that made Freddy a little worried. He pressed his shoulder against Billy’s, waiting for his question.

“Can you, like, explain to me why you even want to go to college?” Billy asked.

The way he said it was equal parts sad little boy who was afraid of getting lost again and pissed off man who had just picked a fight with his manager at work, which was really something, quite the combination. Freddy frowned, scoffed.

“We’ve talked about this,” Freddy said. “A lot. I like the actual _school_ parts of school. Just not the social garbage and stupid rules. I don’t feel finished with learning things, and I want to get a good job eventually. You know all of this already, so, uhh. I’m not sure what you’re asking me?” 

“Yeah, but.” Billy stood and groaned. He turned in a circle before looking at Freddy again, hands on his hips. He seemed to be fighting with himself, trying to talk himself out of saying more.

“But what?” Freddy asked, still sitting on the bed and trying to ignore the cruel, laughing little voice in his head that always came back to say, _ha, fool, you actually thought it was going to be okay this time? Nope, never_. It had been with him since he was old enough to understand that addicts can appear to get better and then relapse, and he was not very old at all by the time he understood that.

“It’s just-- Freddy, you can read books and study things you’re interested in on your own time, and there are two-year training programs that can help you get a good job, and this is like, a huge, consuming commitment, this fancy college with scholarships and dorms and the whole thing, like, what do you need to go that far for? You’re a superhero! Why is some dumb job you’ll have to use as cover for that important enough to disrupt your life for four more years, at least?”

“Because I’m not _just_ a superhero,” Freddy said, trying to keep a calm expression on his face. He tended to snarl when he was annoyed. “And because I want another shot at everything else.”

“Everything else? What the hell does that mean?”

“Look, I know it meant nothing to you because everything just fell into your lap, but I’d kind of like to have a school experience that isn’t total fucking hell for me, okay? Where maybe I’m not the only one in the entire student population who’s ‘differently abled’ in this really visible way?” He pronounced the softened term for his state of existence with derision as usual, and it annoyed him that he suddenly felt like he was doing so for Billy’s sake. “Or, hey, where people might actually use that term and not just, you know, call me Tiny Tim, or crippled, or deformed, if they even look at me at all.” 

“Freddy.” Billy stood there looking like he wanted to die. “I know you’ve been through hell. And of course you deserved way fucking better, jesus. It’s more than half the reason I hate that school so much that I feel like it’s grinding my soul apart just to be there at all. But all that social stuff is a waste of time, trust me. It’s hollow. Me and you are meant for better things. Superhero business, real problems.”

“I’ve _got_ real problems, Billy! And I know you do, too, but I just don’t think you can get how much it would mean to me to go to a school and try to start again, just to see if it would be any different, or make me feel like less of an invisible piece of shit this time around.”

“I don’t make you feel like you’re not invisible?”

“God, stop, you know that you do! You make me feel amazing, every day, and trust me, I still can’t believe my luck in the you department. But I can’t make you my whole entire life!”

Freddy felt it like a shot through his chest, how much he shouldn’t have said so out loud, not now, even if Billy would agree, which-- Freddy wasn’t sure he would.

“Right,” Billy said, sounding like he’d just taken a bullet through the chest, too. 

“Obviously you’ll always be the biggest part of my life,” Freddy said, disliking how it sounded like he was scrambling, placating, because he meant this with every inch of himself. He grunted and grabbed his crutch, feeling like Billy was too far away from him. “But, listen,” he said, standing. “Please, just-- You got to have this whole life away from me, before prom, before we kissed, before everything got so good between us. You got to pick me over that, and I’d pick you over anything, but I have this dumb, yearning, maybe immature thing still in me that wants to, to, to-- Just be liked! And normal, or almost normal, and not who I was growing up or in high school.” He felt himself explaining this poorly, and groaned when he heard Rosa pulling up in the van outside, back from shopping.

“Got it,” Billy said, nodding to himself and backing away when Freddy stepped toward him. “I see what you’re saying, like. This is your time to shine. I had mine, like you said, and boy, is that over. Now I’m about to flunk out of high school and you’re moving on to better things, so. Excuse the shit out of me if I kinda just want to go be my superhero self for a while. Or forever. ‘Cause he’s not a fucking loser like this other one.” 

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself!” Freddy said, whispering now. “You’re smart as fuck and you’re the furthest thing from a loser there is. You could have done great in school. If it’s your choice not to care about all this mundane crap-- Fine! But you can’t hate me for not making the same choice as you! I won’t let you.”

“Jesus.” Billy’s shoulders slumped. He took a deep breath and stepped toward Freddy, shaking his head. “I-- You’re right. I’m sorry. Fuck, fuck. I’m such an insecure piece of shit.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just having a bad day. Billy, you’re a lot of things. Insecure is not really one of them.” 

Billy smirked and stepped closer, settling his hands on Freddy’s waist. Freddy wasn’t even sure he was right. Everybody was insecure about something. He felt like maybe it didn’t matter when Billy closed his eyes and brought his forehead down against Freddy’s, exhaling slowly. They could hear the van’s doors opening and shutting out in the driveway. Normally they would be hurrying out there to help Rosa with the groceries. Freddy thought she would forgive them for having this moment instead, if she knew everything.

“I’m sorry,” Billy whispered when he opened his eyes. “I’m just acting like a shithead because something good happened to you and it’s got nothing to do with me. Which is fucked up. I’m just freaking out, ‘cause I-- I don’t want to lose you to this, to anything.”

“You could never, ever lose me,” Freddy said. He cupped Billy’s cheek with his free hand and moaned under his breath when Billy pressed into the touch like he needed it badly, his eyes fluttering shut again. 

Downstairs, the front door opened. Freddy expected Billy to spring away from him in his usual panic, but he stayed where he was, holding Freddy’s waist with both hands and leaning into his touch, wincing as if he was dreading having to move away from him.

“Freddy!” Rosa called. “Scratch that-- Billy, are you home?” She must have seen his coat hanging near the door. “Can I get some help down here, please?”

“Yeah, coming!” Billy shouted. He turned back to Freddy and pressed his face to Freddy’s, whispered against his skin, “Sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Freddy whispered back. He gave Billy a little kiss on the lips, majorly breaking rule one, but this felt different, maybe because it had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the comfort that Billy clearly needed. “Go ahead. I’ll be right down.”

Billy went downstairs and Freddy walked over to the bed, needing to get off his feet. He was shaking all over with what felt like physical exhaustion, as if crossing the room to Billy had been the equivalent of hobbling for ten miles on the crutch. He stretched out in bed and rolled onto his side, toward the wall. His heart was racing. He was going to Penn State. Billy was coming with him, in some respect, was planning to stay close. They would almost definitely fight again about this or something else before Freddy packed his things and moved into that dorm, but it wouldn’t matter. They never stayed mad for longer than it took to cross the room and fall back together again.

Without meaning to, worn out from the emotional roller coaster of the past few hours, Freddy fell asleep while Rosa and Billy made dinner for him downstairs. When he woke up it was dark outside and he could smell the baked potatoes in the oven. He could hear the high, chattery sound of Darla’s voice from down in the living room. Billy must have seen him sleeping and gone to pick Darla up by himself so Freddy could rest. Freddy smiled against his pillow, eyes still closed. Whatever happened in the next phase of his life, at college or otherwise, he felt so lucky. It made him feel a little guilty to want anything more, but he also didn’t want to deny that he did. He was really fucking excited about college, especially now that he could envision exactly where he would be, only three hours from home and not far from Billy. 

“Oh my gosh, Freddy!” Darla said, racing toward him with a huge grin when she saw him making his way downstairs, still sleepy but very hungry, too. “Billy told me your news!” Darla threw her arms around him as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, hugging him hard. “That’s so cool! You’re amazing, way to go!”

Freddy laughed and hugged her back, feeling authentically amazing. Rosa and Billy were both smiling at him from the dining room while they set the table, both looking like they felt the same way Darla did, and like they loved him so much, amazing or not. 

Darla had perhaps been gently instructed by Rosa not to ask where Billy would be going to college during dinner, or maybe she’d just figured a few things out on her own in the year since she’d asked if Freddy would be going to prom. Dinner was fun, tasty, and Freddy ate too much, also laughed too much, almost to the point of having a stomachache by the time Victor got home from work and gave him a huge hug along with his own booming congratulations. After dinner, Freddy went upstairs to find a whole four scroll-long screed of shriekingly excited Facebook messages from Mary, who promised to call him in the morning when she was done with a nightmare exam she was cramming for. He even had an instant message from Pedro: “congrats buddy :]”, which was very touching and effusive, coming from him.

By lights out, Freddy had a plan for the remainder of the evening, and he lay in bed chewing his lip and thinking about it while they listened for the sounds of the house going quiet around them, until there was no distant running sink, no footfall, just the sound of the occasional car passing by on the street outside. 

“Hey,” he whispered, knowing that Billy was awake and waiting to hear from him. “You going out on patrol tonight?”

“Hell no,” Billy whispered back. “I’m too tired. Also. I want you, I can’t wait.”

“Oh, good, because-- Come down here, hurry up.”

Billy did his usual silent and still honestly impressive dismount from his bed, swinging himself into Freddy’s and landing on top of him in a way that made them both laugh. They grabbed for each other and kissed, both sighing for how much of a relief it was to feel this good and right after the weird tension of the day.

Once they’d both started to get hard from kissing, Billy pulled back and waited, as usual, to hear what Freddy wanted him to do tonight. Freddy kept expecting to get tired of this and want Billy to take a turn being in charge, but it hadn’t happened yet. This was still too fucking good, perfect.

“I was thinking,” Freddy said, a little nervous but mostly excited, “The other night, after Rocko’s, on my birthday. I wanted to ask, but. I don’t know, I ate too much pizza and it was a school night.”

“What are you babbling about?” Billy asked, laughing low in his chest. “You know I’m down for whatever. Just tell me.”

Freddy wasn’t sure why this one was hard to ask for. Maybe he wasn’t sure he wanted it? No, he did. Maybe so much that it was freaking out to think he could have it.

“Uhh, just, you could fuck me.” Freddy licked his lips after saying so, and could feel himself blinking overmuch. “If, if that’s included in the whatever you’d be down for.”

“Really?” Billy said, and Freddy wasn’t sure which part of that he was incredulous about. 

“Yes, really!” Freddy said, when it seemed like a serious question. “It’s been a big week. My eighteenth birthday, college acceptance letter of my dreams, so why not make it a triple play and lose my virginity, too?” 

“You do realize you’re soliciting a minor, sir?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Freddy said, not in the mood for Billy’s increasingly dark sense of humor right then. Billy just snickered like he thought he was hilarious, and Freddy was really kind of surprised that he wasn’t overcome and emotional about this offer, that he was just joking around like it was no big deal. 

“Okay, old timer,” Billy said, swooning down to press his grin to Freddy’s mouth. “I’ll do this sex crime with you. Why not, since we did a different one last night.”

“You know what, forget it, smart ass. You’re such a dick.”

Billy was still cracking himself up, pressing his face to Freddy’s throat to laugh there. 

“It’s seriously not funny, stop!” Freddy hissed. “You are deranged. And you’re making me feel like shit right now, too, by the way.”

“Oh, fuck-- Sorry.” Billy moaned and lifted his head to lock eyes with Freddy, mournful and apologetic in a blink. He licked Freddy’s cheek. “Sorry, sorry. I feel like I can’t do anything right today. But that, yeah. God, I’d love to be inside you, are you kidding? I’ve thought about it, too, I just, uh. I’m not sure I’ll be any good, soo. Maybe I’m a little freaked.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect the first time,” Freddy said, stroking Billy’s sides. Billy was bare-chested, wearing just his shorts, and he moaned and jerked his hips forward when Freddy reached down to feel how hard he was: medium, getting there but not entirely filled out yet. “I want to feel you in me,” Freddy whispered, flushing. “Just that, I want to know what it’s like. We can work our way up to getting it right.” 

“Mhmm,” Billy said, and he gave Freddy a wet kiss, nodding. “Yes, dude. Lube, though?”

They hadn’t done anything requiring it yet, but Freddy had purchased some, in secret and with much embarrassed ceremony. He sat up on his elbow, still mostly under Billy, and pried it out from under his mattress, where he’d hidden it after this purchase.

“Original Wet,” Billy said, sitting back on his knees to read the label after Freddy had handed it to him. “You know, I haven’t even jerked off with lotion since forever? I always do it in the shower now. Unless, you know, we’re doing it together. And then there’s already so much precome, holy hell.”

“Yours, mostly!” Freddy said, not even sure why he wanted to make this distinction. He didn’t find Billy’s insane precome production embarrassing. It was fucking hot, and made Freddy feel like he was amazing at sex whenever he felt more and more seep out while he drove Billy crazy.

Billy grinned. “That conditioner I use was specifically recommended on Reddit as a jerk off in the shower life hack, by the way. Smooth glide.” 

“Fascinating,” Freddy said, annoyed with him for still being so cavalier. Billy was usually all a-tremble when Freddy asked for some new thing that they hadn’t tried yet, and this was the biggest thing, wasn’t it? When Freddy first swallowed Billy’s come Billy had barely stopped himself from shedding legit tears of appreciation afterward.

“Sorry,” Billy said when he saw the look on Freddy’s face. He smiled in an uncertain way and opened his hand on Freddy’s chest, spreading his fingers out. “I think I’m an asshole when I’m nervous.” 

“I may have noticed. It’s okay. I actually don’t want to be all ceremonial and weepy about this, anyway. We’ll just figure it out and take notes until we’re good at it.” 

This was true, as some of his favorites of the many firsts they’d already covered were the fumbling ones, where they ended up laughing and cursing each other, then perfected their methods in the weeks to come, until they couldn’t believe how good they’d gotten and were mutually proud, satiated twofold in that sense. 

Freddy took off his boxers, blushing already and bracing himself for their first serious dealings with each other’s asses. He figured he should offer his up first, maybe because of his lingering guilt over all the things he’d imagined doing to Billy’s over the years.

“Oh, not your fingers,” Freddy said when Billy slicked his purposely, daring a few glances between Freddy’s legs as he did. “I, uh, I don’t think I’m into that.”

“Wuh-- Why not?” Billy looked so crestfallen that Freddy almost laughed. “It-- Jesus, I think, um. Don’t you think it would feel really good?”

Hmm, Freddy thought, filing that away. He shrugged one shoulder and made a face.

“Just seems weird to me,” he said. “Having some dude’s hand up in there, even yours. Maybe I’ll want to try it eventually, but it’s always been kind of a do-not-want of mine. On the other hand, no pun intended, having a big dick in there sounds pretty great, sooo. Just go for it.”

“Freddy! You can’t, I mean-- Don’t I need to, ah, like. Work you open first? That’s part of it, yeah?”

Billy’s face was flaming now, all of his seriousness about this experience having suddenly arrived.

Interesting, interesting, Freddy thought, chewing away the grin that wanted to break onto his face. 

“It can be part of it,” Freddy said, shrugging again. “But it’s not actually necessary. You can just go in carefully, with plenty of lube, taking your time. Don’t look at me like that, I know what I’m talking about! I’ve been researching the mechanics of gay sex for longer than we’ve known each other.” Initially through 2D drawings of erotic fan art, but still. He’d been pointedly reading up on the subject in recent weeks, due to realizing he was ready to start trying it with Billy. 

Billy made a soft noise under his breath that sounded like disappointment. He looked down at his lube slick fingers and then back up at Freddy, eyes narrowing.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t! I’ll talk you through it. Dammit, Billy, I do actually know more about this than you. You know how thoroughly I research everything.” 

“Pfff,” Billy said, wiping his fingers on his shorts. He put the lube aside and leaned down over Freddy on all fours, bringing the tip of his nose close to Freddy’s. “You’ve done book research on sex, big deal.”

“They were hardly books, we’re talking websites--”

“Freddy, please. I know a little something about what I’m talking about here, too, okay? I’ve actually _had_ sex.”

“Yeah, once, with a girl! And on prom night, so I kinda doubt anal was involved.”

Billy’s eyes went wide, and his shoulders jerked once before he burst into all-out laughter, still wide-eyed. Freddy was right behind him, shaking his head on the pillow and quaking so hard with the effort of keeping this possession of complete hilarity quiet that his whole body jerked wildly up against Billy’s, which felt amazing with Billy’s chest bouncing just as hard with laughter. Freddy felt his nipple drag against Billy’s and wanted to feel that again, intentionally, which was also funny. He put his hands over his face, laughing so hard that his eyes got wet.

“Okay, fuck this,” Freddy said when they could both somewhat breathe again, still jittery with the aftershocks of crazed laughter in their bellies. Freddy was no longer remotely hard. “And not in the literal sense. Worst first time ever, zero out of ten stars, this is canceled before it becomes an even bigger debacle. Loss of virginity postponed on account of-- You being an idiot.”

“Wow, you’re on a roll,” Billy said, eyes shining. “That was almost as funny as angrily saying I probably didn’t have anal sex on prom night.”

“Well, you didn’t! Did-- you?”

“God, no, are you serious? It was traditional, and brief.”

“Traditional?” Freddy said, and they both started laughing again.

“You know what the fuck I mean!” Billy moaned and swooned down to give Freddy a kiss that was oddly tender, in the midst of everything else. Or maybe it wasn’t odd at all, Freddy thought. He kissed back as best he could, with the corners of his lips still pulled up a little and a buried laugh vibrating up along his ribs. 

“Sorry,” Billy muttered when he pulled back, smiley and soft now, too, his limp dick resting against Freddy’s hipbone, still inside his shorts. “I didn’t mean to mess that up, but I guess I’m not really in the mood for uhh, something that big, tonight. I’m really fucking tired, Freddy. Long day.”

“Oh, shit, I know, I shouldn’t have-- It’s okay, don’t be sorry.” Freddy kissed him again, and was so giddy with relief and adoration that he pulled back to say, “Hey, though. I could gently finger you to sleep, if you want. ‘Cause I think, maybe. You want?”

Billy’s eyes changed in a way that Freddy had become familiar with since February. It was a look that meant: oh fuck yes, please. 

“Yeah,” Billy said. His voice was suddenly soft to the point of reverence. “That’d be good.”

“You’d like that?” Freddy asked, feeling like he was already teasing at some sensitive spot on Billy, drawing him out onto a desperate ledge. “Me touching you there? My fingers inside you?”

“Nnh, Freddy, yeah, please--” Billy’s cock was filling out again, and he was already rubbing himself against Freddy’s hip in little twitches, his pupils fattening along with his dick.

“Hand me the lube,” Freddy said, keeping his eyes locked on Billy’s. “And lie on your side, okay? Facing me.” 

Because Freddy really needed to watch Billy’s face as he fell apart for this the way Freddy was by that point pretty sure he would. Why Billy didn’t just ask for these things he wanted was a mystery to Freddy, but he didn’t mind not knowing just yet. Figuring it out from the bashful little clues Billy gave him had been part of the fun so far. 

Having Billy stretched out on his side between Freddy and the wall, breathing hard and waiting to be acted upon, made Freddy feel like he was already doing this right, but he was a little nervous, too. 

“Should probably take the shorts off,” Freddy said, smirking and popping the cap off the lube.

Billy breathed out and did so hurriedly, and Freddy’s dick throbbed toward full hardness when he realized Billy had been waiting for Freddy to tell him he could, maybe?

“Have you done this to yourself?” Freddy asked when he scooted close enough that their cocks dragged together. The contact made Billy’s eyes flutter shut and the flush on his cheeks darken, or maybe it was the question. Freddy already knew the answer, just wanted to hear him say it.

“Yeah,” Billy said, voice throaty and newly deep. “Sometimes.” 

“Do you do it every time you jerk off in the shower? With your smooth glide conditioner?”

Billy huffed, wrinkling his nose a little. He peeked up into Freddy’s eyes and gave one quick little shrug of his shoulder, which meant: yes, correct, stop making fun of me. 

Freddy kissed him over the bridge of his nose, where Billy’s burning blush felt warm against his lips. He moved down to Billy’s mouth and kissed him there while reaching over his hip, slipping his lube-slicked fingers down and in, toward his target.

Billy was already too into it to really kiss him back properly, mostly just panting against Freddy’s lips while Freddy gave him soft little licks. Freddy was too preoccupied with feeling his way in between Billy’s ass cheeks, which were hard with muscle and perfect like the rest of him, to really be much of a kisser himself in that moment. He was also tracking Billy’s every reaction as his fingers just brushed lightly over where Billy apparently so badly wanted them: Billy’s choked-off gasps against Freddy’s lips, the way his eyes closed softly as if he was already getting what he needed, just this, and his cock leaking against Freddy’s when Freddy clumsily wrapped his left hand around both of them, as far as he could, tugging them both softly in tandem and groaning into Billy’s mouth when it felt as good as it always did.

“Freddy,” Billy said, swallowing with a click and blinking his eyes open.

“Yeah?”

“S’good.”

“Good.” Freddy gave him a kiss on the cheek, sort of stunned by how weirdly innocent this felt. “You’re, um. Really tight. Can I, like, push in? Will it hurt? I don’t want to do it wrong.”

Billy breathed out a little laugh. “Won’t hurt,” he said, eyes closed now. He was pressing his hips back, rubbing himself against Freddy’s probably too-gentle stroking fingertips and chewing his lip. “Please, just. _Please_.”

Freddy tightened his grip on their pressed-together cocks as he pushed his fingertip in, and heard himself make a kind of astonished sound when he felt how hot Billy was inside, staggered just by this. He pushed in deeper, watching Billy’s face for any signs of pain. 

There was no pain in Billy’s expression, just a combination of some kind of pure, soaring relief and a needy ache to get more when he managed to lock his fuzzy gaze on Freddy’s and snap his hips back against Freddy’s finger, pushed all the way into him now.

“Fuck,” Freddy said, tongue working over his lips, all his usual talent for dirty talk leaving him. “You’re so hot.” 

Billy snorted and then moaned, louder than he’d normally dare to. Freddy shushed him and kissed his mouth, which was soaking wet when Freddy pushed his tongue inside to fuck him there at the same pace he was using with his finger.

It was all too much almost right away: Freddy had started jerking them both off faster, harder, without even realizing it or wanting to, because he wanted this to last. When it didn’t, when Billy came with a broken little cry as soon as Freddy stroked over his prostate inexpertly, Freddy was close behind him, watching Billy’s face as he fell apart and then gaped at Freddy with such gratitude that it actually helped him last just a little longer, because it was something beyond sex, that look, and it made Freddy’s chest ache a little. 

“Ngh, careful,” Billy said, wincing when Freddy kept dragging his finger in and out as he pumped himself dry, emptying his cock onto Billy’s flat stomach and not wanting to withdraw from Billy’s searing heat yet. “I-- _Ah_ , Freddy-- It gets, it’s like your cock, when, _mphf_ , after--”

“Oh god, sorry!” Freddy said, realizing what he was saying, that he was painfully over-sensitive there now, that the friction was too much after he came. Freddy pulled his finger out slowly and kissed Billy’s still-breathless mouth. “Sorry, sorry.”

Billy huffed out a crazed little laugh. “Um, don’t be sorry. Freddy, fuhhhhck. That was perfect, thank-- Thanks? Just. You’re so _perfect_ , how are you real?” 

Freddy laughed at the idea that any part of him was perfect and kissed Billy while he recovered. Billy looked like he was ready to fall asleep there in Freddy’s bed, back to the wall and Freddy blocking him in with his body, which was still Freddy’s dearest dream despite all of this. 

But Freddy had to get up to dress and go to the bathroom to wash his hands, and when he got back he knew Billy would be in the top bunk. Billy had dressed and cleaned up while Freddy was down the hall, but he still smelled like sex when Freddy walked over to give him a kiss goodnight, their faces pressed together in the gap between Billy’s mattress and the wooden slat of the top bunk. Freddy wanted so badly to fall asleep with his face buried in that scent, in Billy’s sex-wrecked hair.

“God, I can’t wait to have my own place,” Billy said, blinking at Freddy tiredly when he lingered there, his chin on Billy’s mattress. “And you, every night, in my bed. Although, um. Listen, they can’t ever get rid of these bunk beds, okay? We have to inherit them.”

Freddy laughed. He’d thought the same thing. These beds were sacred now. 

“I’m sure they’ll suit the decor of our adult apartment wonderfully,” he said. “G’night, get some sleep. God, you’re so tired.” He gave Billy one more peck on the lips and then dropped into his own bed, exhausted again despite the nap he’d taken earlier.

“We can put them in the lair,” Billy said when Freddy had settled in for sleep, assuming Billy had already passed out until he heard this.

“Huh?” Freddy said.

“The bunk beds. They can go in the lair, after we move out. Like firemen have, you know, for rest when they’re on call.” 

“Oh.” Freddy had to hold in wild laughter, because he was afraid it would sound mean. He felt anything but, protective and overfull with adoration, because Billy had thought about the fate of the bunk beds, and he had a plan for them. “Sounds good,” Freddy said when the thread of giddy laughter had passed. “Love you. Night.”

“N’yeah, love you.”

They were newly inseparable for the rest of the school year. Freddy quit his job at the theater, glad to say good riddance to all of the assholes he worked for and with there, some of whom had actually occasionally settled themselves onto the stool he used in the ticket booth when he was away for a bathroom break and then acted like he was the asshole when he stared at them in disbelief until they got up. He had money saved up and didn’t need a lot, with the scholarship handsomely covering all his living expenses. Officially confirming his acceptance with Penn State felt a little bit like getting his super powers had, but he didn’t tell Billy so, because of course the powers were far more important, amazing, unique. He just liked that he’d done this other big feat for himself, all on his own. 

Billy still worked at the hardware store, but he wasn’t taking many shifts, trying to focus on repairing his Spanish III and Chem II grades so he could graduate in May. With his acceptance in hand, Freddy was less concerned with school than usual, and aside from a few AP tests he had worked hard enough already to be able to coast toward the finish line. He went out patrolling with Billy on school nights, though he knew he shouldn’t encourage Billy’s restless need to be in super form, that he should be staying in and helping him study instead. It just felt too good to fly around helping people, watching out for the world together, and then crawl back through the window and have each other while that energy was still strumming through both of them, electric and amazing, like they were also having sex on some astral plane in their other bodies, too. 

They had flirted with fooling around while in their super bodies, on the roofs of buildings and even in mid-air, laughing with new nervousness. It somehow felt even more unallowed and risky than fooling around in bed together at the house did, and they mostly held off, but Freddy had some thoughts about what they might get up to in the future, when they were free to transform any time, maybe letting the lightning in through their bedroom window. He didn’t have the ability to shoot lightning from his hands, and he was still a little obsessed with the fact that Billy did, on a near-fanboy level, and thought about how good it felt to touch the bolt on Billy’s chest, how it didn’t hurt, and how much the lightning from Billy’s hands might not-hurt if Billy carefully stroked it over Freddy’s super-powered body.

They still didn’t know how to take the costumes off and at that point were pretty sure they couldn’t without transforming, so maybe it was moot. Freddy figured they had plenty of time to go there, if they even could. They still hadn’t even returned to the idea of full-on penetrative sex in their regular bodies, and Freddy wasn’t sure why, except that there was also no rush in that department and Billy seemed more than happy to have Freddy just using his fingers on him for the time being.

The school year came to and end and graduation robes were ordered, the weather warming and Freddy feeling a weight that he’d carried for so long he thought it would never leave him lift away forever as he walked the halls of their high school on the third to last, second to last, and finally the blessedly motherfucking last ever day he would have to be there. 

Then final grades came out, and Billy had passed Spanish III but not Chem II. 

“It’s fine!” Freddy said the instant Billy told him. Billy was seated on Freddy’s bed and staring at the floor. Freddy was at the computer, where he’d been working on an email to Mary when Billy came in and mumbled this news, obviously ashamed. “They offer Chem II in the summer,” Freddy said, rolling the desk chair toward the bed, toward Billy.

Billy gave him a look that clearly said, ouch, really?, because Freddy had blurted this too quickly, revealing that he’d researched it as their contingency plan in case Billy flunked.

Freddy sighed and shrugged, scooting the chair all the way over to the bed but hanging back a little, not sure if Billy wanted to be touched just then. 

“I know,” Freddy said when Billy looked up at him again, at least. “It sucks.”

“You don’t know,” Billy said, sharply. “I was so close. Fuck.”

“Dude, I--” Freddy swallowed down the second _I know_ that he’d almost vocalized. “I agree that it sucks,” he said, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture, like: please don’t take it out on me, please? “But, look. You’ll enroll in the Chem II summer course, it’s a slog but it’ll be okay, ‘cause now that I’m done with school and not working, I can help you study a lot and we’ll just, we’ll get it done and you’ll graduate in August. No big deal.” 

“They bought that fucking cap and gown for me,” Billy said, eyes falling shut. He shook his head. “I knew it, I knew I should have told them not to.”

Freddy tried as best he could to keep the heartbroken look off his face. It shredded him completely to see Billy like this, down on himself and embarrassed, thinking he’d disappointed their family. He reached out, tentative, and took one of Billy’s hands, then the other.

“You’ll still use them, in August,” Freddy said, maybe unwisely, as he wasn’t entirely sure that there was a ceremony for summer graduation. Rosa and Victor would want Billy to wear them for cheesy photos, anyway. “Dude, I’m sorry you feel shitty about this, I’m not telling that you shouldn’t, but we’ll fix it. I’m here, like. Just use me however you need to.”

Billy snorted and almost-smiled. Freddy had intentionally phrased that with as much awkward innuendo as possible, hoping for a laugh.  

“Yeah,” Billy muttered, and the huge breath he took seemed a good sign. He exhaled just as powerfully and met Freddy’s eyes, shrugged. “You’re right. As usual. Fuck, I don’t want to tell them, though.”

“Rosa and Victor? Billy, c’mon. Victor didn’t get his GED until he was twenty-four. They’re not going to judge you.” 

“It’s not about judging,” Billy said, his eyes hardening. “Victor didn’t have awesome foster parents like them when he dropped out. He was going through real shit. I’m a spoiled brat. I failed them.” 

“Okay, no.” Freddy squeezed Billy’s hands. “You’ve gone through real shit, too, and now you’re a superhero. It’s not easy! Even Superman said so, once. In an interview. I can show it to you, I still have a copy--”

“Oh my god.” Billy tried not to laugh, but his shoulders bounced a little. He tugged Freddy forward, out of the desk chair and into his lap. “You dork,” he said, grinning up at Freddy when he was straddling Billy’s thighs. “Thank you,” he said, more softly, just before Freddy could bring their lips together.

“For what?” Freddy asked, pausing there. 

“Mph. I don’t know. For making everything okay, always.” 

Freddy moaned and kissed him, wanting to hold on to that superpower more than any of his others.

Like Freddy and probably even Billy knew they would, Rosa and Victor were nothing but supportive in light of the news, helping Billy with the process of registering to retake the Chem II class and assuring him that everything was going to be okay, nothing was spoiled, just delayed, and only by a few months. The summer semester would start just after Billy’s eighteenth birthday and would run from June 21 to July 30, a kind of gruelling but efficient schedule of three two hour long lectures per week plus a three hour lab on Fridays. They told him he could do it, and Freddy could tell Billy was starting to believe this by the time they were all sitting down to dinner with Darla, her cheerful chatter mercifully distracting everyone from the drama.

Freddy was afraid his graduation ceremony would be awkward in light of Billy not walking up on the stage before him, even aside from the fact that Freddy didn’t exactly love walking in front of hundreds of people while their eyes tracked his slow gait across a stage, but it ended up being a good time, with Mary and Pedro both in attendance and the whole family celebrating with trivia night at Rocko’s afterward. They even won the game that night, and cheered together as if the fifty dollar Rocko’s gift certificate they got in reward for first place was a lottery prize. Billy looked happy, Freddy thought, when he glanced over to smile at him, the two of them pressed close together in the booth so everyone could just barely fit.

“You’re gonna love college,” Mary said later that night, when she was sitting out on the front porch with Freddy, everyone else watching an old _Indiana Jones_ movie inside. “It’s so different, so much better than high school. It’s gonna be so good for you, actually. Just to get out of this neighborhood, away from all those awful kids at that school.” 

“But,” Freddy said, and he checked back over his shoulder to make sure everyone was still in the living room. “Billy,” he said softly, turning his gaze back to Mary.

“I know.” Mary rubbed his back and sighed. “It’s so hard. I really struggled with leaving you guys. I don’t know if you knew that.”  

“Yeah, it’s hard, anyway.” Freddy swallowed heavily. He’d been so fixated on the potential for separating from Billy that he hadn’t even taken much time to think about how hard it would be to leave this house, the first real home he’d ever had. “I wrote my essay about Rosa,” he said, voice still low. “‘Cause she went to Penn State and inspired me to apply there and all that, but also because, you know, uh. I’d never had anyone who remotely acted like a dad to me before Victor, so I didn’t know what that felt like and having him become my dad was brand new and great and pretty uncomplicated, but. Since I grew up with a mom it took me a little bit longer to realize that I think of Rosa as my mom now. That she’s my real mom. I haven’t shown her yet. The essay, I mean. Should I?”

“Yeah,” Mary said. She blinked a haze of maybe-tears away and put her arm around him, kissed his forehead. “I think you should.” 

Freddy didn’t work up the nerve to take Mary’s advice until a week later, when Billy and Victor were both at work and Darla was at her summer day camp. He made his way downstairs holding a copy of the essay, feeling stupid but knowing that Mary was right, it would mean a lot to Rosa. She was at the kitchen table going over bills, writing checks, and she smiled up at him when she heard him come in.

“I feel like you should read this probably,” Freddy blurted, thrusting it at her. “I’ll just sit here in awkward silence while you do,” he said, falling into a kitchen chair when she’d taken the two pages from him. 

Freddy wouldn’t look at her while she read because he could hear her tearing up a little already, halfway through, and it was making his eyes burn and his bottom lip tremble in an irreversible way. By the time he heard her clearing her throat, putting the papers down, he knew as soon as their eyes met that he would start crying.

“Freddy, baby,” she said, voice soft. 

Freddy did a silent sob thing low in his chest and sort of dove into her arms as soon as she moved to hug him, sinking to her knees in front of his chair so he could throw both arms around her.

“Sorry,” he heard himself say, crying as quietly as he could with his chin on her shoulder.

“Freddy!” She pulled back to show him her teary face and cupped his cheeks, smiling up at him. “What on earth for? That was-- It means-- I can’t even tell you, how much. Thank you for showing me, baby. Hey, look at me,” she said, when Freddy averted his eyes after trying to wipe them dry. “You are so special,” she said, mostly keeping her voice steady. “You have never stopped amazing me since the day we met. All those superheroes you love? They have nothing on you, okay?” 

“Mom,” Freddy managed to choke out, and then he cried pretty hard, and she held him. 

They went out for ice cream together after they’d both calmed down, and all the way there and back she listened as Freddy talked with an anxious, happy, nonstop energy about almost everything that was on his mind. He wished so much that he could really tell her all of it: about the powers, Billy, even that awful day when he tried to meet up with Lawrence. He figured he’d confide in her about everything eventually, when the time felt right for each painful or happy secret. They had a long life ahead together as mother and son, after all. College wouldn’t change that.

The rest of May was breezy and beautiful, both weather-wise and within Freddy’s little world. Free from school until the summer class started in mid-June, Billy was in good spirits and they were patrolling together nightly, helping people when they could and keeping an eye on things when they couldn’t find any action. They made their own action together back at the house regardless, in their “real” bodies, which were both resembling their super ones more every day. Billy still looked a good bit leaner and about ten years younger than his Shazam self when they were depowered, and Freddy even more so in both departments, but they were growing up, getting closer. 

“Too bad we can’t figure out how to get the costumes off while we still have the powers,” Freddy said one night, thinking about how close and yet far he was to just getting rid of his limp for good, if his face was going to look the same whether he was powered-up or not. 

“There must be a magic word or something,” Billy said. “I mean, one that lets you, uh. Undress, but still be powered-up. Damn. I wish that old wizard was still around. I got about two minutes with him before he was dust.” 

Freddy shuddered at the thought of someone with their powers turning to dust. He scooted closer to Billy, pressing their shoulders together. They were on top of their usual staking-out spot, the same one where Freddy had finally admitted to himself that he was in love with Billy and flown off in horrified misery directly afterward. 

“Doesn’t matter, though,” Freddy decided, feeling greedy again. “This is enough. More than enough.”

“And transforming is easy,” Billy said, nodding. “If we’re ever in a bind. Just one word.”

He swallowed heavily and looked down at the park below. It wasn’t far from Chilladelphia, and Freddy knew he was thinking about how easy it had been for Sivana to keep him from transforming once, when he had Billy’s head underwater, when he almost drowned him. Billy still refused to learn how to swim and even hated the ferry when they used it in New York. He’d had bad nightmares the first couple of years after the Sivana incident, especially after Sivana escaped from prison. Twice they had been so bad that he’d curled up in Freddy’s bed afterward, breathing hard and avoiding Freddy’s eyes, not afraid of getting caught sleeping there back then. 

“If he ever comes back, we’re more than ready for him,” Freddy said, speaking softly and not sure he should be saying anything. “You’d only had your powers for a few weeks when you wiped the floor with him. The rest of us had just gotten them within the hour when we helped. Now we’re all better, stronger. And he doesn’t have the eye anymore, doesn’t have the sins.”

“He has something,” Billy muttered. “The way he escaped from prison can’t be explained. He’s a genius, Freddy, and he’s relentless--” 

“If he’s such a genius then why is he still in hiding almost four years later? He’s out there terrified somewhere, powerless, his tail tucked between his legs.”

“You don’t know that.”

They flew home not long after that, and when Billy got into bed with Freddy that night, he didn’t seem to want much more than to be held. Freddy got the message and only pushed up the back of Billy’s t-shirt to stroke his fingertips over the small of his back while he held on tight, kissing the top of Billy’s head and letting him have what he needed.

“When we were kids,” Billy said after being quiet for a while, his lips moving on Freddy’s throat. “When I had those bad dreams, after everything happened-- Jesus, Freddy, those dreams-- It felt like he was here, in our room, like he’d come back for me. But he wasn’t really there, and when I woke up, you were. I remember already thinking, even just a month or whatever after it all went down, I don’t want to lose Freddy, ever. You were the first person I ever thought that about, other than my mom.”

 _And I lost her_ , Billy didn’t need to say, his arms tightening around Freddy. _And I couldn’t get her back after I had. No matter how hard I tried_.

“Never gonna lose me,” Freddy reminded him in a whisper, and he held Billy tighter, too, hooking his good leg around Billy’s waist to get him in even closer. 

By the start of June, Billy was a little more tense, probably dreading the summer school course, but for the most part things stayed easy between them even with college and leaving home together looming. Freddy wanted to get Billy something special for his eighteenth birthday, but could only think of sex acts, which was a little embarrassing. Billy didn’t care about material things much, and his only real hobby was being a superhero. He already had everything he needed for that, so far as Freddy could see. 

Red Cyclone was more popular than ever in Philly, especially when he was teamed up with Blue Bullet. They both laughed hysterically when one of the superhero gossip columns made the insinuation that Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet could be lovers, because when else had two superheros of the same status been seen in each other’s company so often? Even Batman and Robin didn’t fight crime together as regularly, and everybody knew Robin was Batman’s younger apprentice, whereas the relationship between Cyclone and Bullet seemed ‘equitable,’ another word that made them laugh. Freddy also secretly really liked that at least one gossip columnist thought so. He was the smaller one even in super form, and had always been nervous that he’d be perceived as a sidekick. 

On the night of Billy’s eighteenth birthday, Freddy still hadn’t come up with any amazing or even boring presents for him, but he could see that Billy didn’t care. Billy got presents from Rosa and Victor, mostly practical things that he would appreciate like clothes and a nice travel bag that matched the one they’d gotten for Freddy for his eighteenth, a kind of bittersweet, symbolic present that acknowledged they’d be packing off for their adult lives soon. After opening gifts at home, they all met up with Mary and her new boyfriend Doug at Rocko’s. Mary and Doug were spending the summer in New York for an internship Mary had there, and had taken the train down just for trivia night and to celebrate Billy’s birthday.

Mary seemed very grownup and happy, and Freddy knew Billy was glad to have the distraction of everyone getting to know Doug to take the focus off him and his birthday a little. He got bashful and twitchy about being the center of attention when he was Billy Batson, which was hilarious to Freddy, because as Red Cyclone he lived for it. But at the same time, Freddy got it. He felt so ready to be admired when he was Blue Bullet, flying around being visibly impressive, and had a hard time accepting compliments when he was in his so clearly less-impressive form. 

After cake at home, Freddy was glad to say goodnight to everyone, Mary and Doug dropped off at the station to catch the last train back to the city and the other family members heading to bed. He wanted to be alone with Billy and celebrate his birthday in whatever way Billy wanted, as he’d come up with a plan that might serve as a present, though he wasn’t sure Billy would like it. An oncoming thunderstorm was rumbling closer in the distance, the air smelling so strongly of the rain that would arrive with it that Freddy closed the bedroom window before getting in bed, though there was a nice breeze and he’d been in the habit of leaving it open until their fooling around hours began. 

“Hey, so,” he said, when the house was quiet and the thunder was close outside, shaking the house with booms after every vivid flash of lightning. “Happy birthday. Did I say that yet?”

“I think it was the first thing you said to me this morning.” Billy put his head over the side of his bunk and smiled down at him. “But, thanks. It was good, like. Hey. We’re adults now, officially. Feels weird to say so, since we’ve had, uh. Access to adult bodies for like four years.”

“Come here,” Freddy whispered. “I got something for you.” 

“Oh no,” Billy said, eyebrows lifting. “Should I be scared?”

“What-- No! Why?”

“The look on your face. Devious.”

“I’m just horny, get down here.”

Billy snickered and climbed out of bed. He walked to the window instead of dropping directly onto Freddy, craning his neck to watch the lightning. Freddy rolled onto his stomach so he could watch, too, enjoying the way it reflected off Billy’s skin in the dark, not unlike the lightning they could call down with their powers or the kind that came from Billy’s fingertips. 

“You know what I still think about?” Billy asked, turning toward Freddy. It was warm in the room and he was bare-chested, wearing his shorts. 

“Hmm?” Freddy asked, his chin in his hands. He could feel the hearts in his eyes, knew it was probably very obvious how much he was admiring Billy’s half-naked body and sweet little half-smile just then. 

“That first night when I had the powers,” Billy said. “How you put your hand against the lightning bolt, how you were fearless.” 

“I didn’t know it was going to shoot sparks out at my palm,” Freddy said, trying not to be too flattered. “I just wanted to touch it, uh. I guess it was more reckless than fearless.” He winced. “Considering I also asked someone to shoot you in face.” 

Billy grinned like that was a good memory. Freddy supposed it was, though he still thought about it with a horrified stomach drop sometimes. 

“But we knew, right?” Billy said. “We knew I was unstoppable. I looked at you and felt like I knew, anyway. You were so wide-eyed. I’d never felt that cool in my life.”

“Yeah, you’d also never had superpowers. I’m pretty sure anyone who gaped up at you in that body would have made you feel pretty cool.” 

“Nope.” 

“Nope, really? C’mon.”

“You were so into the superhero stuff, I don’t know. Having you there was what made it feel real.” 

“What is this, like, speech?” Freddy asked, laughing under his breath. “You’re stalling. Are you really that afraid of my present?”

“I know what your fucking present is, Freddy,” Billy said, taking a step toward the bed in a decisive way that made Freddy start to get hard against the mattress.

“Oh, do you? What, then?”

“You’re gonna tell me I can do whatever I want to you,” Billy said, tipping his head back and looking at Freddy from under his pretty lashes, shoulders going back. Preening, perfect. “And that I get to pick. That I _have_ to pick, actually, right? And not just do whatever you ask for.” 

Freddy was impressed, also kind of embarrassed. He rolled onto his back to show Billy the outline of his stiffening erection through his underwear, spread his legs a little and reached down like he was going to touch himself, teasing his fingertips along the waistband of the pair of tight, newish briefs that he’d put on for the occasion. Billy’s eyes scanned downward, and he licked his lips. 

“So, what?” Freddy said. Lightning flashed outside when their eyes met again. “What do you pick?”

Billy breathed out through his nose and looked to the windows again when lightning flashed through the room, a hard slap of thunder following right behind. 

“You’re going to call me uncreative,” Billy said when he looked back at Freddy. “But, I feel, like-- Restless, or, I don’t know. This storm, or something, it’s making me want to finish what we started. I want us to fuck, for real, tonight. To be your first. Feel like I can’t wait any longer.”

“Fuck yes,” Freddy said, lifting both arms and doing a probably unsexy grabby-hands gesture in Billy’s direction. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“You were waiting for me to?”

“Well, yeah. Seemed like, last time I brought it up, maybe, uh. You weren’t that into it.” 

Billy shrugged one shoulder and managed to look bashful for a moment. 

“I’ll show you what I want,” he said, softly. “Okay?”

Freddy had already dug the lube out from under the mattress and was nodding madly, still reaching for Billy with his free hand.

Billy stepped out of his shorts on the way to the bed. Naked, hard, he glanced nervously at the bedroom door. Lightning was still flashing outside, the rain still holding off for now. Thunder rolled like menace, and the superhero in Freddy felt called to action, as if some villain was causing the ruckus outside, but there was nothing he or Billy could do to stop a storm, and he didn’t want to stop this one. He wanted it to stay loud, to provide cover while they finally had each other like this. 

Satisfied that nobody was awake, Billy exhaled and kneeled onto the bed, up on his fours over Freddy as usual. Freddy had mused before that it was funny, him calling all the shots, when he was always spread out on his back like this under Billy, at least at the start. But there was no doubt about it, when he looked up into Billy’s face, even now: Billy wanted Freddy to tell him how to proceed, to tell him it was okay to want this, that he could move, go, take what he needed.

In this case, Freddy basked in the moment, watching Billy start to breathe harder, uncertain and searching Freddy’s eyes, wanting reassurance. He looked so good like this, pretty and strong at the same time, also like he felt it through every bone in his body, like he’d said to Freddy on the day of their first kiss: I fucking belong to you.

“How do you want it?” Freddy asked, prodding him only with words, not touching him yet. “Show me.”

Billy reached for the lube. His hand was shaking. Freddy loved him so much for how nervous he could still get, as if Freddy would ever judge him, as if he’d ever be disappointed or critical when they were together like this. Maybe Billy was a little turned on by the idea that Freddy might? He was weird like that, and Freddy was so into it, ready to be weird right back at him. 

Freddy licked his lips and kept his face calm until Billy’s lube-slicked hand came down not to press between Freddy's ass cheeks but to stroke over his dick, making him gasp more from understanding than sensation.

“This okay?” Billy asked, voice pinched, eyes locked on Freddy’s while he got his dick wet, probably using too much.

“Hah,” Freddy said, swallowing hard and telling himself he had to last, this had to last, he wanted this moment to stretch on forever. “Yes, yeah. That’s good, that’s. How I want it, too. Like that.” 

“Yeah?” The relief on Billy’s face was heartbreaking. Freddy whined and bucked up in his grip.

“Don’t stroke me too much,” Freddy whispered. “I want, ah, um-- I want to be inside you for so long. All night.”

Billy exhaled and nodded, moved his hand away. He tossed the lube aside and knelt up into position over Freddy, holding his gaze with an expression that was both serious and sweet as he reached behind him and lined Freddy up with that heat that Freddy could already feel against the slick tip of his cock. It was dizzying to think he would have it all around him, this part of Billy that felt too tight even around just his fingers, almost scary knowing that he was about be inside Billy like that, stretching him open and filling him up. 

Thunder rattled the windowpane, lightning strobed through the room, but they didn’t look away from each other as Billy sank down onto him, just a little at first, hissing and showing this teeth, and then more deeply, with his mouth falling gradually open, his breath getting choppy as he worked himself onto Freddy, hips twitching.

“Fuh, fuck--” Freddy slid his hands onto Billy’s sweat-damp thighs, already worried he would come, because oh god, god, it was too good, so hot, slick, fucking heaven, that perfect slide of unreal friction hugged around his cock, and the way Billy was still coming down onto him, more and more, shivering and working himself into place, until he was fully seated and they were both groaning, hiding the volume of their pleasure in a thunder crack that sounded like it was directly overhead and felt like it was going to come through the roof and grant them both some new power. 

“Fuh, Freddy,” Billy said, voice pinched and eyes closed. He reached up and grabbed one of the horizontal slats on the underside of his bed and arched his back a little, sucking his breath in through his gritted teeth in a way that almost finished Freddy off. He held back, his fingertips squeezed into Billy’s thighs as the first crazed impulse to start fucking up into that perfect heat raced through him like a second heartbeat, throbbing up the length of his cock. He let it fade into a low sizzle in his gut, stayed still and let Billy adjust to the feeling, which suddenly Freddy needed to know all about.

“Tell me,” Freddy said, glancing down to make sure Billy was still rock hard and leaking, and oh, yes, yep, amazing. “What’s it feel like?” Freddy whispered when Billy managed to meet his eyes again, looking like he was already lost to this, close to drooling for it. 

“Freddy,” Billy said, whining his name out as if it was a sufficient answer. His grip tightened on the bed overhead, chest heaving and eyes rolling back when he shifted his hips just a little, testing the feeling, moaning. 

“Shhh,” Freddy said, though he wanted nothing more than to hear Billy lose his mind and get loud. “Tell me how you feel, you okay?”

Billy laughed dryly and blinked down at Freddy, trying to make himself focus. He swallowed and nodded, sweat already gathering at his temples and making his sideburns wet. 

“Feels so good,” Billy said in a whisper that almost sounded pained, trying to give Freddy what he’d asked for and clearly struggling to speak at all. “Wanted it so bad.”

Freddy moaned a little regretfully and reached up to hold Billy’s waist, wishing he’d just asked for this sooner. But then they wouldn’t have had the thunderstorm, or the sudden, violent patter of rain against the window, coating the house in a protective layer of constant noise and making Freddy’s dick throb dangerously inside Billy, because even the sound of rain gushing made him want to come, but this couldn’t end yet.

“More,” Freddy said, the sharpness of his voice making Billy’s eyes clear a little and snap up to meet his. “Tell me how it feels. You like that?”

“ _Fuck_ , Freddy, _yes_ , it’s so-- Full, it’s-- Nnngh, it’s too much, but in the buh, best way. You’re so fucking deep.” Billy made a sort of sobbing noise, sharp and high-pitched, starting to writhe in shallow little rolls of his hips. “Ahhh, yeah. Freddy.”

Billy wasn’t good at being articulate while they had sex, so Freddy tried to stop getting him to describe how this felt, which admittedly would be impossible for Freddy, too-- It was unlike anything he’d ever had, not just the unreal friction and heat but the insane satisfaction of being inside the person he loved and watching him fall apart for the feeling.

“Wait,” Freddy said, grabbing Billy’s hips and holding him still when he was afraid he would come, his cock a throbbing mess inside Billy for even his timid first attempts to fuck himself down onto Freddy. “Hang on, just. Not yet.” 

Billy whined, begging, and Freddy had to bite his bottom lip hard to keep from giving him permission to do what he wanted, afraid he would go off for Billy’s first hard downward push.

“C’mere,” Freddy said, stroking his hands up and down over Billy’s trembling thighs, which were getting properly slick with sweat. “Kiss me,” Freddy said, pulling him down so he was hunched over Freddy, both of them gasping when it pulled him up a little along the length of Freddy’s dick, which was just another thing for Freddy’s list of everything that was going to make him come too soon. 

He managed to hold it off and they kissed for a while, Billy trying to move maybe without even realizing it and Freddy holding him still as best he could, nipping at Billy’s lips when he started trying again. Billy wanted to ride Freddy’s dick so desperately that it was like he had never stopped saying so since sinking down onto him, and it was so tempting to let him go wild, only Freddy didn’t want to stop watching him shake and curse and lose his mind for not being able to do it yet, squeezing himself around Freddy in pulses that almost felt vengeful.

“Freddy,” Billy said, eyes dark when he pried them open. “I, I need--”

“What, tell me.” 

“To, to move, I need, please, it feels so good--”

“You like that?” Freddy couldn’t help boasting, because he felt incredible and also like if he kept talking he wouldn’t come just yet. “Like having me inside you? Deep, finally, right where you wanted me? Claiming you?”

Billy groaned loud enough that Freddy had to cover his mouth with his hand, glad for the downpour and the fact that the thunder had continued.

“So good,” Billy said, murmuring this into Freddy’s hot palm. He was stronger than Freddy and starting to fight Freddy’s hold on him, hips sneaking up and pressing back down, his breath a humid mess against Freddy’s hand. 

“God, look at you,” Freddy said, getting close, the shake of it starting in the backs of his legs and shooting up into his groin, something powerful there telling him to please, please, move, fuck him, take him. “You’re a mess,” Freddy whispered when Billy opened his eyes just enough to lock on his.

“Let me,” Billy said, voice again so tight that it sounded like speaking at all might hurt a little, hips stuttering against Freddy’s attempt to hang onto them. “Puh, please, Freddy, please.” He sobbed once after begging with fully formed words, and it was almost enough to pull Freddy over his edge, because with that sob Billy’s whole body got tighter around his cock, and it felt like the pure, physical manifestation of his desperation. “I need it,” Billy said, shaking his head like he was chastising himself for this even while pleading. “Need it, please.”

“Okay,” Freddy said, nodding. His voice was pretty cut up at that point, too. Sweat was dripping from the ends of Billy’s fringe and onto his face, and Freddy was licking it up, wanting more of everything, anything. “Yes, yeah, go, do it, ride me. Hard.” 

Billy groaned and sat back, his mouth hanging open as his hips slapped down against Freddy’s. It was enough to make Freddy need to cover his own mouth with both hands to stop himself from moaning like nothing mattered, also more than enough to inspire him to finally move his own hips in desperate upward thrusts. The end was near anyway and he wanted to be slamming his dick up into Billy when he came, because oh god, yes, it was everything, it was back-breaking pleasure and he didn’t care now when it ended or if it killed him when it did, because they were both losing their minds and the thunder and lightning at the window seemed to be egging them on, saying, harder, yes, more, that’s right, fucking take what you need. 

Freddy came first, of course, burying his cock in Billy and holding him down onto it as he unloaded, and he had the distant feeling, mind barely functional, that it was his teeth-gritting effort to hold Billy down over his dick while he came that set Billy off, his come spraying Freddy’s chest and his head slamming up against the underside of the bunk as if he’d forgotten where he was. Freddy wasn’t sure Billy even noticed that he’d whacked his head, but he did fall forward afterward, huddling around Freddy and pulsing crazily around his dick with aftershocks until Freddy had to push him off, because it was too much. 

Freddy at least had enough presence of mind left to nudge Billy into the space between himself and the wall, where he most wanted Billy, where he belonged. Billy was jittery as if coming down from another electrification that had changed him forever, drooling against the sheets, eyes still closed when Freddy moved closer and slid his sweaty legs against Billy’s, though they were both near-steaming with heat, too hot to fully wrap around each other just yet.

“You okay?” Freddy whispered, cupping Billy’s cheek. 

Billy wrenched his eyes open and looked at Freddy like he didn’t understand the question. 

But he must have, because he locked his wet eyes on Freddy’s, exhaled in a choppy rush and said, very seriously:

“I want to do that every night.”

Freddy giggled, feeling like he’d been fucked stupid, like he had no brain. He nodded in agreement anyway and pressed his hot face to Billy’s, moving his hand down to Billy’s throat to feel for his pulse, which was still hammering crazily. 

“Yes,” Freddy said, whispering this with answering seriousness, as if he was responding to a marriage proposal.

The rain outside slowed to a patter and the thunder and lightning moved off into the distance, as if in acknowledgement that, at least for this night, they were finished. Billy passed out in a boneless sleep right there in Freddy’s bed, seemingly with no reservations. He woke up maybe five minutes later, blinking muggily at Freddy. 

“Don’t worry,” Freddy whispered, petting his cheek. “I’m watching you sleep. Wait, that sounds creepy. I meant-- I’m awake, I got you, got this. I’m here.”

Billy pulled Freddy into his arms, rolling him over so that Freddy’s back fit against Billy’s chest, where his sweat was cooling. Freddy grinned and pressed back into it, relishing every inch of Billy’s skin as they curved together again like they had that night, when Billy had a near-breakdown over having sex with someone he didn’t love. Freddy understood why now, in a way he didn’t then. Billy wasn’t just freaking out because he didn’t love the person he shared his first time with. He was also freaking out because he’d realized in the process that he loved someone else, Freddy, and had wanted it to be him. 

“I’ll fall asleep if you hold me like that,” Freddy whispered, already kicking the sheets into grabbing range so he could pull them up over their tired, fucked-out bodies, hiding this much at least. 

“It’ll be okay,” Billy said, mumbling this against Freddy’s shoulder and squeezing him in even closer. 

Freddy had no idea what Billy was basing that on or if he even knew what he was saying just then. All he knew was that he felt it, too. The summer was opening up ahead of them, and after that the rest of their lives, the whole entire world, and it would be okay somehow, all of it.

He would never forget how that felt, how sure he’d been and how even knowing too soon afterward that it wasn’t true couldn’t touch the memory of having Billy wrapped around him like that, certain just like Freddy that everything could only be good from there on out, because they had remade the world for each other, so how could it ever not be.

 

**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say enough about how much the comments on the last chapter meant to me, thank you again to everyone who gave me feedback and also to everyone who is reading along! 
> 
> The structure of the last five chapters has solidified now and I can't wait to see what you guys think of this one~~ and SHIT GETS REAL from here on out, so lots more to come. I went ahead and updated the total chapter count to 10 now that I have everything pinned into place in terms of what I what to introduce when. Enjoy~~! <3
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **

Freddy takes his car off auto drive when the display on the dash indicates he’s closing in on the address Billy gave him. He was here ten years ago, but that time Billy brought him directly, which made getting home after causing a scene that much more awkward, as Freddy had no car back then. 

This time he needs to feel like he’s completely in control when he pulls up to the front gates of Grayson Manor, which is what it’s become in his mind, whether or not Dick and Billy actually call it that. Gripping the steering wheel and navigating the car along the winding country roads in manual drive mode helps a little, but not much. The woods that surround these roads manage to seem spooky and damp even now, at the dewy start of summer and in late afternoon, and he keeps seeing giant black birds flying both overhead and across the road, a combination of turkey vultures and ravens that he finds unsettling. 

A call comes in from Billy on the dash, startling him. Freddy licks his lips and tells himself he’s got this, it’s go time, he can do this, he’ll be fine. 

He reminds himself that no matter what happens, he’s going to sleep in Billy’s bed tonight, in Billy’s arms, and he’s grinning when he tells his dash to take the call. 

“Hey!” Billy is all smiles, too, and seems to be standing outside somewhere. “You close?”

Freddy snorts, unable to keep from picturing an alternate context for that question when it’s Billy asking. 

Billy rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

“Yeah,” Freddy says. “I think so-- Or anyway, my dash thinks so. It’s blinked out a few times, is the signal out here really that bad?”

“You’re in the middle of nowhere, dude. Have you crossed the one-lane bridge yet?”

“No-- Wait, here it is, I think, just ahead.” The bridge is as creepy-looking as everything else in this part of the state, old and wooden, covered and tunnel-like, inviting Freddy to drive across it if he dares. “Is this thing gonna hold my car?”

“Does okay with mine. Hey, if it collapses, just S-word yourself out of there and fly the rest of the way. I’ll buy you a new car.”

You mean Dick would, Freddy barely stops himself from saying. He’s instructed himself to make as few comments about Dick’s inherited wealth as possible. It won’t be easy. Freddy has a big chip on his shoulder about people who came into money they didn’t earn, and a way bigger one when it comes to how Dick’s money has shaped Billy’s life. It’s shaped Freddy’s life, too, in the sense that it took Billy away from him once and keeps parts of him there still. 

“Made it across the bridge,” he says, instead of anything about who is buying who cars around here. “Oh-- Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Billy says, because he must know Freddy can suddenly see it, from the top of the hill that starts to descend downward after he’s crossed the bridge: the sharp spires of Grayson Manor’s roof in the distance, beyond the trees, like a creature lurking in deep water, its eyes just visible at the surface. “You’re almost here,” Billy says, cheerful, maybe a little forced. “Just follow that road for another half mile. You’ll see the gate.” 

Indeed, the gate would be impossible to miss. Freddy ends the call with Billy and sits gaping up at it, leaning toward his windshield while his car idles in front of the massive iron gates that obscure the property behind them entirely, framed on both sides by a concrete wall that has got to be ten feet high if not fifteen. Freddy startles when the gates begin to open inward. This wasn’t the scene when he was here ten years ago. There had been a gate back then, but he remembers it being more romantic and decorative in nature, with latticed ironwork that offered a view inside. Now the place looks like a high security prison. 

Go figure, he thinks, trying to contain his bitterness when he imagines that’s what it is, in a sense, for Billy, who owes Dick so much. 

The gates open to reveal Billy standing inside, at the start of the winding driveway, smiling and waiting for Freddy with his both hands in the pockets of his unzipped hoodie. The warmth Freddy feels at the sight of him washes away all the creepiness of their surroundings and the anxiety of his mission for just a moment, long enough to get him pulling the car forward without reservation. 

“Can I get a lift?” Billy asks, opening the passenger side door and falling into the seat beside Freddy’s. “It’s a long walk back.”

“Like you didn’t fly here from the house,” Freddy says, and he laughs when Billy leans over to kiss him on the mouth, just quickly at first and then more hotly, licking in past Freddy’s lips when he laughs again. 

“Fuck,” Billy says, pulling back to give him a moony grin. “So glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Freddy says, pulling his gaze back to the windshield and swallowing down a terrible feeling, the sensation that he’s actually blowing his last chance with Billy in this attempt to fix things via temporary deception, if that’s even really what he’s doing here. He’s a little worried, as they drive closer to the Manor, that he’s actually doing this to knock Dick off the pedestal Billy has kept him on all these years, at the very least. Though maybe the two initiatives could be one and the same. 

“Been thinking about you since last night,” Billy says, reaching over to rub Freddy’s thigh. 

Freddy hasn’t seen him this keyed up in a long time. He wants to fall face-first into it, and wishes like hell that he could.

“That was-- Exhilarating,” he says, nodding. 

He’s sure he’d be thinking about nothing but the rescue they’d managed back in Philly, too, if he didn’t have all this other shit on the brain. The sirens they’d heard while making out in the alley by Rocko’s were related to a bad electrical fire at a nearby plant, a dozen night-shift workers trapped inside. They both have fire immunity but smoke is trickier, as neither of them possesses the kind of super vision that lets them see through it, and while their bodies process and eliminate the damage done by smoke inhalation quickly, it’s not instantaneous. When they were done rescuing all of the workers, which was harrowing at moments and honestly kind of fucking scary when they thought they might not manage to reach the last two in time, they were both sooty and a little shaken as they accepted the thanks of the authorities who had just arrived on the scene when the roof collapsed, the fire accelerated to a crazy degree by the chemicals the plant processed. Neither of them had enough energy left for crazy post-heroing sex afterward, and it wasn’t that kind of mission anyway, too grave and too close a call to make them want to celebrate that way. 

Today, however: Freddy feels it, too, the unprocessed need to pour that combination of anxious and victorious energy out into each other. He flexes his thigh under Billy’s hand when Billy squeezes him there. If he didn’t have this spying-on-Dick mission to complete he would happily avoid that part of the evening entirely and just go directly to Billy’s bed.

“There was a story about it in the news this morning,” Billy says, cautiously, as if Freddy doesn’t know this already and hasn’t been stressing about it all day, along with everything else. “Headline was Blue Bullet and Red Cyclone Together Again for Amazing Rescue.” 

“That’s a rare order of our names in a news article,” Freddy says, grinning despite everything. He can’t help feeling, when he’s with Billy like this, just the two of them speeding along toward whatever obstacles await them, that they can’t be hurt by anything on the road ahead, not really. 

“It’s alphabetical,” Billy says, and “What, it is!” when Freddy laughs. “Anyway,” he says, pressing his fist against Freddy’s ribs. “They mentioned the drunk guy we saved the other day, too, in the article. The last part was saying, like, is Philly’s beloved superhero duo responding to Wonder Woman’s call for a return to open patrolling? Or something like that.”

“Hmm,” Freddy says. “We should be careful, in the coming weeks.”

“Oh, god, Freddy, we’re always careful.”

“We, Billy?” 

“Okay, you, but I’m careful enough, aren’t I? Haven’t had a real close call in, what. Five years?”

Freddy sighs at the memory, shifting in his seat and wishing this fucking driveway would end already, so he can pull Billy fully into his arms and gather the courage to go forward with everything else. Being reminded of the last time Billy was seriously injured by a supervillain is not the energy he needs right now. 

It was five years ago: Billy’s attempt to pretend he doesn’t remember it exactly doesn’t fool Freddy, who was only there in the aftermath. Darla was the one who tipped him off that there was a fight going out in the countryside, that Billy and Nightwing had teamed up with Black Canary and a few others to take down a supervillain the papers had nicknamed Burnfury, which was a stupid name for a terrifying monster who came from Starfire’s side of the galaxy and wanted Earth as his vacation home. He was the kind of supervillain that Batman and Superman would have teamed up to stop, had they been alive and still around, respectively. 

The fight was over by the time Freddy got there, having stepped out in the middle of a class to beg a passing colleague to take over for him as he flung himself down the hall saying he had a family emergency, had to go. When he got there Burnfury was just smoke and ash, but everyone except Darla had taken serious battle damage in the process of defeating him, and Billy got the worst of it. He was sprawled out on his back in the middle of the field where the fight had culminated, soot-covered and still seizing up with the aftereffects of the answering lightning that Burnfury had blasted him with.

“I got here late, too,” Darla said, her eyes wild when they met his. “Freddy, he’s hurt.” 

Her face was wet when Freddy dropped to his knees to join her at Billy’s side, too frantic with horror to even notice that he’d shoved Dick away violently in the process. Billy would mention this later. He was trying to smile up at Freddy already, wanting to make a joke about Freddy using his near-death as an excuse to shove Dick Grayson, but his voice wasn’t working and he just winced and hissed when he tried to speak, another spasm of violent shaking rocking up the length of his body. 

“Who’ve you called?” Freddy asked, running through his mental list of heroes with healing powers. As of the previous year, Aquaman was no longer among them, dead at the hands of the Super Killer.

“Hawkgirl,” Canary said. “She’s on her way, but. Not close.” 

“Fuck,” Freddy said, because she didn’t have super speed and her healing abilities were just okay. He cupped his hands around Billy’s face and brought his forehead down against Billy’s, closing his eyes and wishing he could give up everything he had for the kind of healing powers Billy needed. He did his best to absorb the shockwaves of pain, feeling them in his own bones as Billy grit his teeth and tried to fight through them. 

“He’ll be okay,” Dick said. “You should have seen him--”

“Fucking shut up!” Freddy barked, or something to that effect.

This time he noticed it when Billy almost laughed. Freddy moaned and kissed him on the lips in front of everyone, not giving a fuck just then.

“I’m here,” Freddy said, ducking down to put his mouth against Billy’s ear. “And that idiot isn’t wrong. You will be okay. Help is coming.”

Hawkgirl arrived in time to prevent Freddy’s biggest fear, which was a stroke. She soothed the tremors from Billy’s still powered-up body, and when he could sit up again, and talk with a scratched-up voice that made him sound like he’d swallowed his enemy’s lightning blasts directly, they decided it was safe for him to transform. Doing so usually helped with the healing process, once he was stable enough in super-form. 

This time it wasn’t quite like that. Billy passed out as soon as he was back in his depowered body, going limp in Freddy’s arms. Darla started sobbing, but Freddy wouldn’t let himself panic. He made sure Billy was still breathing, checked his pulse. Both seemed normal, and soon Billy was trying to get his eyes open, shaky and aching but okay. He was just exhausted, also sore all over. The worst damage from powerful supervillains could fight its way into their depowered bodies, too. Freddy had experienced it before, and it was awful, a kind of all-over ache, like some part of them that wasn’t quite physically present needed them to know it was hurting, that it needed rest, and had to make them aware of this with tortuous muscle pain that seemed to shoot from here to there in confusion, seeking the body that it wasn’t currently occupying.

Freddy lifted Billy’s oversized body into his arms easily, still powered-up himself. He’d flown there from the city and wasn’t crazy about the idea of flying all the way back to his apartment with Billy in his arms, disliking how conspicuous it would make them. The pain and the shock of Aquaman’s death still felt fresh, almost a full year later. Like others before him, he had seemed much too powerful and timeless to come to that kind of harm. 

“I’ve got my jet,” Dick said, reading this hesitation on Freddy’s face. “I’ll take him back to the house, we’ve got--”

“I know what you’ve got, but that’s not what he needs. I’m taking him to my place, to the city. We’ll be close to a hospital if I need to take him in.”

“Bullet--” Dick seemed to measure whether or not he had the energy for Freddy’s hatred of him just then. He looked pretty worn down himself, his costume torn in places, and was bleeding from a cut on his jaw. “Fine,” he said tightly, when he saw the look on Freddy’s face. “I’ll give you a lift.”

Darla was still in college, and Freddy was living alone, in the least-crappy apartment he could afford on a public high school teacher’s salary. Dick dropped them off there and Darla helped Freddy get Billy settled. She gave them both a long hug goodbye when she’d calmed down and accepted that Billy was really going to be all right, then dashed back to school. As soon as she was gone, Freddy went into the kitchen with the excuse of getting Billy some water and stood at the sink sobbing as silently as he could for maybe thirty seconds, until it was out of his system. There had been a moment when he’d first arrived, when he’d seen Billy stretched out flat on his back and hadn’t known-- And the way Darla had been leaning over him, hunched with what looked like grief--

He splashed water on his face and returned to the bedroom, pretending not to see that Billy could tell he’d just had an uncontrollable crying jag and that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I hate it when I’m not there,” Freddy said, avoiding Billy’s eyes when he handed him the glass of water. Billy was propped up against pillows in the bed, his legs under a blanket. “And I hate it when you get hurt, and I don’t, even if I am there when it happens. Actually, that’s worse.”

“Well, then today wasn’t so bad, was it?” Billy said. His voice was scratchy in depowered form, too, though less wrecked, more tired. He drank from the water and slid his arm across Freddy’s lap when he sat on bed. “Take this off,” Billy said, tugging on Freddy’s cape.

“Jesus, yeah.” He’d forgotten he was still in Shazam form, had slid through the air from the kitchen with the glass of water without even realizing that he wasn’t just walking with sudden ease. He went to the window and called the lightning from his bedroom, too unwilling to get any further from Billy to not risk the brief spotlight on his mundane quarters. “We could have gone to the lair,” Freddy said, turning from the window and bracing his hands on the wall as he made his way clumsily to his closet to dig out one of the spare crutches he used when his regular one got dropped unceremoniously in his panic to transform for an emergency. 

“I’d rather be here than the lair,” Billy said, soft-voiced and sweet-eyed when Freddy made his way to the bed with the crutch. “Your place has better light.”

“Ha-ha.” It did, actually. The apartment was junky for the most part, in a bad part of town, but the bedroom was nice, with some exposed brick behind the bed and big windows high along the top of the same wall. 

He got in bed with Billy and scooted close, until they were stretched out together, lying face to face. Freddy cupped his hand over Billy’s throat, needing to feel Billy’s pulse pumping against his palm. Billy curved in closer to him and blinked happily under the attention, trying to stay awake.

“You shoved Dick,” he said, grinning.

“When?” Freddy asked, rearing back a little.

“When you first got there. Jesus, the sight of you, when I was feeling like that, and then seeing you push Dick out of the way like there was a train coming and you wanted to make sure he ended up in front of it? Saved my life, man. I was laughing on the inside.”

“Thought you didn’t like it when I was a dick to Dick,” Freddy mumbled, maybe trying to be funny. He moved even closer, touching his forehead to Billy’s and disliking the idea that his life had ever been on the line, though he supposed Billy was just being hyperbolic. 

Billy shrugged. “I’ve accepted that you’ll always hate him with the fire of a thousand suns, at this point. And it was special circumstances. Just seemed funny, at the time.”

“Glad to amuse you.” Freddy moaned and pulled his knees up, shifting his legs onto Billy’s chest, though he knew he should give Billy’s hurting muscles space. He started to pull back, but Billy reached down and held him in place, curled up against him. 

“You know I live to be amused by you,” Billy said, with a strange softness that made Freddy blink his eyes open and meet Billy’s gaze. He was giving Freddy a fearless look of something like amazement, looking younger suddenly than he had in years, as if being hurt and then healed had rolled back time for him.

“Don’t do that again,” Freddy said. “Don’t get hurt.”

“I will gladly obey that order whenever I can, Freeman.”

Freddy grunted. He’d never liked being called Freeman, by Billy, all that much.

“I’m serious, Billy. It’s not like how we thought it was when we were kids. Like everything was always going to turn out okay in the end.” He kept his eyes downcast, knowing Billy would read too much into this. Freddy was only talking about superheroing at present, though the dissolution of their private sense of security together did feel related to what changed when Batman died. “The consequences can be so real. Dick should have waited for backup.”

“Freddy.” Billy groaned and moved even closer, his arm coming up to wrap around Freddy’s back. “You know there’s no waiting for backup when a supervillain ambushes you. Look, I’m fine. I just need a few days, like. I guess you’re okay with me staying here?”

“Okay?” Freddy snapped his gaze up to Billy’s and sputtered incredulously. “Um, yes! Jesus, Billy, it’s more than okay! I would fight anyone who tried to get you out of this bed right now. To the death.” 

Billy grinned. “You’re thinking of Dick, huh? Damn, I passed out and missed it, did he want to take me back to the guest house? Did you call him names? Did he try to yank me out of your arms? Did you bite him?”

“I’d love to know when you started finding all of this so funny.”

“Probably around the time I almost died, and then didn’t. So, today? Really puts things in perspective, Freddy. I hope you’ll never know the feeling.”

Billy said that last part more quietly, the amusement draining from his eyes. He cupped Freddy’s face, kissed his cheek. Freddy was embarrassed all over again at having such a thin track record with near-death victories, at least compared to Billy’s. With the older superheroes disappearing due a rampaging serial killer, Billy’s track record was getting hard for anyone to match. 

Freddy used three of his precious sick days and enjoyed what he couldn’t deny was the best time he’d had in years while he took care of Billy. They spent all three days in bed together, first just cuddling up and watching movies and eventually fucking each other’s brains out, when Billy was well enough. Apparently the near-death experience had made Billy wild for sex along with all his other new perspectives, and Freddy almost cried with relief when Billy rode his dick for all it was worth for the first time in what felt like years, finally. They’d somehow gotten into the habit of doing it only the other way around, and though Freddy also loved that dearly, having Billy kneeling over him and bringing his whole massive self down onto Freddy’s cock over and over, with his head thrown back and Freddy’s name on his lips, brought him right back to their first time ever, on the night of that lightning storm, and made him something of an emotional wreck in addition to a by-then uncharacteristically fast finisher. Still, after all that time, nothing they did got to him like that did.

It was three days of lolling around in mutual bliss, and then Billy pulled free to take a shower while Freddy went on with the mid-afternoon nap they’d been taking together, hugging a pillow against his chest because he already couldn’t stand not to have Billy there, and when Billy came back into the room to kiss him awake he also whispered, _I gotta take off_. 

And that was that. Billy also said I love you, thank you, you’re my hero, and some other placating things, but none of it compensated for the fact that he fucked off back to Grayson Manor as soon as he could physically manage the transformation, and that they didn’t see each other for a full week after that.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Billy asks now, poking Freddy’s side when he’s been quiet for too long, the driveway from hell-- or to hell, Freddy supposes --continuing on indefinitely. 

“Thinking this driveway is a fucking optical illusion.” Freddy can’t talk about he past right now, or anything else he’s really thinking about, for that matter. “How are we not there yet?”

“We are, look. There’s the turn, up there on the right. My place is right around the corner.”

Freddy makes the turn, and they drive through a maze-like garden full of towering topiaries until they come to the two-story guest house, which is ringed by more topiaries and tall pines that seem watchful as they get out of the car. 

“Well, this place is even creepier than it was ten years ago,” Freddy says as they make their way around back, to the entrance that Billy uses instead of the front door, for some reason. 

“In a good way, though, right?” 

It seems like Billy really hopes Freddy will think his place is cool, which is both heartbreaking and annoying. Freddy sighs and nods, unable to deny that the pristine lap pool and in-ground hot tub behind the guest house are impressive and inviting, despite the spookiness of their surroundings. 

“I guess you don’t use that,” Freddy says, and then he feels bad for mentioning it. Billy still has a thing about water. 

“Nah,” Billy says, turning to unlock the door. “You could, though, if you want.” 

“Not really in the mood for a swim, but maybe later.” 

Freddy watches as a single leaf from a nearby tree floats serenely downward and lands on the surface of the pool, setting off a tiny ripple. Something about it makes him shudder. 

“What are you doing?” Billy calls from inside the house, laughing. “Come in!”

Freddy is a good sport while Billy shows him around, both genuinely touched by how much Billy has clearly been dying to share this part of his life with Freddy and mildly sickened by how much it seems to mean to him to live in such stylish luxury. Billy was never like this before Dick came along. He wore the too-small red sweatshirt that he’d arrived at the Vasquez house in until they were eighteen, and maybe even afterward. Freddy would be interested in checking the drawers here, to see if it’s still around. Billy would wear it when they fucked some nights, even on the hottest nights of that last summer, so that he could leave it in bed with Freddy after they were done, in place of himself. Freddy would hide his face in the hood and moan for how much he loved the smell of Billy’s hair that lingered in it, which made no sense, really. They both used the same bottle of cheap shampoo, back then.

“Whatcha drinkin?” Billy asks when they’re in the kitchen, which is all polished stainless steel, big windows looking out at the trees as they sway in a warm wind outside. “I’ve got a full bar,” he says, gesturing into the adjoining room. The bar looks like it’s made of mahogany, also like it’s an antique. 

“I’ll just have a beer,” Freddy says, deciding to limit himself to one. It’s usually not an issue, and he needs to stay sharp tonight. He was bad for a while, in college, and though it never got the point of affecting his grades, he’d scared himself more than once when looking in the mirror and seeing hollow-cheeked Lawrence grinning drunkenly back at him. But he’s under control now, he’s good, cautious. Though he does have days when he understands too well the temptation to just nosedive straight into numbness the way both his biological parents did. 

“I told Dick you’d be here tonight,” Billy says, and he seems nervous already about mentioning him. Freddy has wandered over to the gorgeous aquarium in the adjoining living room area, which spans almost the entire far wall, brightly colored fish zipping around between twisting rock and coral. 

“Great,” Freddy says, watching the fish and wondering how much time Dick will give them alone together before he bursts onto the scene. “What, uh, did he have to say about me being here?”

Billy gulps from his beer before answering. Hmm, wonderful.

“He said he’d be glad to see you,” Billy says. He walks across the room and stands at Freddy’s side, touches the small of his back. “You want to sit?” he asks, voice soft. His eyes are soft, too, wanting. Freddy knows what he wants: for all of this to be over and for the latter part of their evening to begin, when they’ll be alone together and able to sleep through the whole night in each other’s arms at last. It’s been so long.

“I’m okay standing,” Freddy says, not wanting to have to struggle to his feet when Dick breezes in. He considers transforming, then decides that would be tacky, or obviously a compensating move, anyway. “Listen, um.” Freddy glances back over his shoulder, not sure what he’s looking for except maybe Dick lurking suddenly in a corner and leering at them. “I was thinking we might go to the main house. I know I had a historic meltdown last time, but--”

“Yeah, Dick will want to take us there,” Billy says, both easing Freddy’s tension about needing to spy on Dick’s lair and increasing it, too, because now it’s definitely going to happen. “He’s doing dinner for us at the house. I thought it would be best if he met us here first, though, uh. To start off on more neutral ground.”

“Sure.” Freddy sighs, suddenly feeling very tired. He didn’t sleep well the night before. He lets himself tip forward, until his forehead is resting on Billy’s shoulder. Billy’s hands go to his waist, and Freddy leans into the support gladly, relaxing onto him. “Mhmm,” Freddy says, hugging his free arm around Billy’s back. “Missed you.”

“We just saw each other last night,” Billy says, and he laughs warmly, his chest bouncing against Freddy’s. “But,” he says, shifting Freddy’s weight in his arms so he can lift one hand to stroke his curls. “I know. Me too. Freddy--”

The front door opens downstairs before he can continue, because of course Dick is already here, of course he came as soon as he could.

“Bill?” Dick calls. “Is that Freddy’s car out front?”

Freddy groans under his breath. He really, really hates that Dick calls Billy that, as if it’s his right to near-rename him. When he pulls free from Billy’s arms and gives him a look, Billy meets it with one that’s like a warning: _be nice_. 

“We’re up here!” Billy calls back. “And, yeah, that’s-- That’s his car.”

“Oh, great!” Dick bounds up the stairs with his stupid acrobat energy. He’s always throwing himself around with unnecessary speed and annoying grace. Showing off.

“Freddy!” Dick says, at least remembering that he loathes being called Fred. “Wow, hi! It’s been a while, huh?”

“A couple of years,” Freddy says, as if he doesn’t vividly remember the last time he had to deal with this asshole on a patrol. “Hi. You look well.”

It’s true, unfortunately. Dick is five years older than them but has a youthful glow that does nothing to take away from his dashing manfulness. He is, however, only five foot eight. Which Freddy enjoys. Freddy has a couple of inches of height on Dick, and Billy towers over him.

“What are you guys drinking? Beer? Great, I’ll grab one.”

Dick goes to Billy’s fridge and helps himself to a bottle like he owns the place, because, of course: he does.

When Dick walks closer, Freddy notices he does look a little craven and weathered, at least more so than at first glance. The shadows under his eyes seem to have been there since Batman died. He doesn’t sleep much, according to Billy. There was some folly years ago about inventing a medicine that would eliminate the need for sleep entirely, which apparently went about as well as such a thing sounds like it would.

“Bill tells me you’re doing well,” Dick says. 

Freddy barely stops himself from asking Dick not to call Billy that, for god’s fucking sake. He gulps from his beer and forces a smile as he swallows it down.

“Yep, I’m fine,” Freddy says. He wants to race into a discussion about the Super Killer and how Dick’s investigation into his identity is going these days, but knows he has to suffer through pleasantries first, to get Dick’s guard down. Maybe Dick will even get a little drunk. He’s a lightweight, and Billy has mentioned that he tries to keep up with friends who drink and occasionally embarrasses himself. That was years ago, though. Dick is older now, and perhaps more savvy. He’s certainly looking at Freddy like he knows he must be here for some reason other than bridge-mending, already studying him closely with those beady eyes of his. 

“So!” Billy says when an awkward silence descends. “Dick has been working on some really cool stuff at the house. I thought, since we’re all heroes, maybe Freddy could get the grand tour? The really grand one, I mean?”

Freddy wants to drop to Billy’s knees and throw his arms around his legs, completely aware of how much he doesn’t deserve Billy’s love and loyalty, at least right now. Billy is putting Freddy’s secret plan into motion without even knowing it exists, all because he wants Freddy to feel included.

“Sure,” Dick says. He smirks, looking like he’ll be glad for the chance to show off his gadgets. Freddy isn’t proud of his disappointment. If Dick is all for it, maybe he’s not up to anything untoward after all. “We can do that. Hey, Fred,” --And, ah, there it is-- “What do you make of Wonder Woman speaking for all of us recently? I saw her cited in that article that came out today about you and Bill saving those workers.”

 _Saving those workers_ makes it sound so lame, Freddy thinks. They battled a raging chemical plant fire and flew a dozen people to safety, some just in the nick of time, the roof already starting to cave--

“Yeah, that,” Freddy says, clearing his throat and making himself focus. “I dunno, I guess I have mixed feelings about it. I appreciate her sentiment, but it makes me nervous. Feels kind of like she’s asking for a confrontation.”

“Maybe a confrontation is overdue,” Dick says, his voice doing that sudden dark-as-fuck-grave-seriousness thing that Freddy has always found unnerving. 

“Nobody’s questioning your willingness to take on the killer,” Freddy says, a little sharply. Perhaps he should have eaten more for lunch or finished his beer more slowly. “Seems like he’s not interested in making a show of himself anytime soon, though. Except in his usual way.”

“Not even in that way, right?” Billy says. “I mean, it’s been three years. Maybe he tangled with the wrong hero someplace, and we just never heard about it.” 

“Doubtful,” Dick says, and for once Freddy agrees with him. He drinks from his beer instead of saying so, however.

“Should we head over to the house?” Billy asks, overloud. He’s so desperate to get this part over with. Freddy turns to give him an aching, apologetic look, nodding. Letting himself think about those days they spent together in Freddy’s apartment while Billy recovered from his Burnfury injuries was as mistake, especially right now. Freddy feels newly broken open by the memory of his stupid, misguided hope that Billy was never going to leave him again, because why would he? Freddy had _felt_ how happy Billy was during those three days, even when he was still in physical pain. It had poured off of him like fucking sunlight. But from Billy’s perspective there must have been something missing all the same, because he seemed so breezy when he left, like even the ease of his departure was ideal.

“I’ve got the glider outside,” Dick says, as if anyone here needs to be told that he flew his fucking mini jet from one end of his property to the other. “I think we can all squeeze in there.” 

“I’d just as soon take my car,” Freddy says. “So I can drive me and Billy back here after dinner.”

“Ah.” Dick’s little smile is strange, even for him: it’s mean somehow, like he’s laughing on the inside. Then it’s gone in a blink, his eyes shifting back to his usual I’m-such-a-great-guy expression of self-approval. “Suit yourself.”

Freddy and Billy don’t say much to each other on the drive toward the Manor proper. Billy grabbed another beer from the fridge as they were leaving and he’s drinking it as if he wants to finish it as quickly as he did the first one. 

“Open container in a moving vehicle,” Freddy says when he can’t deny that it’s bugging him. He doesn’t want Billy to get drunk and sleepy, best case scenario. Drinking can also make him get weepy sometimes, sending him into a panic over various regrets like it did after his two-and-a-half beers on prom night. Freddy doesn’t need that right now, can’t handle it tonight.

“Private property,” Billy responds, and he chugs from the beer, which annoys Freddy into remaining silent for the rest of the drive. 

Grayson Manor is all modern lines and mirrored windows, way too enormous for this style of architecture and having something of a ‘dystopian robot factory’ vibe, whereas Freddy has heard Dick describe it as ‘speculative future Gothic,’ whatever the hell that means. The boxiness of the segmented design combined with the turret-like spires on the roof make it look like a lunatic lives here, which is truth in advertising. It’s far from beautiful in Freddy’s opinion, but it certainly communicates the imposing mass of Grayson’s inherited wealth, announcing it to the surrounding woods with absolutely no subtlety whatsoever. Freddy parks his car out front near the driveway’s central fountain, which is a grim thing involving a collection of narrow stone rectangles rising from a pool of water. It’s supposed to resemble a cityscape, but to Freddy the wet stones meant to represent skyscrapers look more like beams of dark energy rising from a swamp, streaming with menace.

“How often do you spend time here?” he asks when Billy just sits there in the passenger seat instead of getting out.

“Well, Freddy,” Billy says, tapping his empty beer bottle against his knee. “I live here, so.”

“I meant in this ugly isor of a house! As opposed to over at your place.” 

“Mhm, I don’t know. We have dinner here together pretty often. Freddy, uh. Are you gonna tell me why you’re actually doing this, or are we just going to fight about why you haven’t later? ‘Cause I’d rather not do that second option.”

Freddy groans and rests his head on the steering wheel. Why can’t anything just go fucking right for once, just once, with everything that’s on the line? Dick is waiting for them at the front door, hands on his hips like, what’s the hold-up.

“I’ll tell you after dinner,” Freddy mumbles, regretting the fact that he means it. He feels like Clark will somehow know Freddy has tipped Billy off in the exact way he agreed not to and this whole thing will be blown, but lying to Billy still feels wrong, and of course Billy has seen through Freddy’s crappy cover story about making amends with Dick now that Freddy has been in the same room with Dick, to the usual effect. “I can’t get into it while that dingbat is out there staring at us,” Freddy says, giving Billy a pleading look. “Later, okay?”

“Are you in trouble?” Billy asks, leaning closer, eyes softening. “Something bad?”

“No. It could be something really good, in fact. Let’s just get this goddamn dinner over with, okay? Then we’ll talk.”

Billy sighs and nods. He climbs out of the car, and Freddy does the same, wishing he for once felt like he knew what the hell he was doing. Other superheroes always seem to, including Billy. Freddy still feels like a fanboy pretender when he tries to participate in this world, unless it’s just him and Billy flying through the air and fighting the forces of evil together, no one else around to complicate things. When it’s just the two of them Freddy feels like he can do no wrong, just because Billy looks at him that way, like Freddy is the one who always knows what to do. 

“Everything okay?” Dick asks when Billy and Freddy approach him. 

“Of course,” Freddy says, hating him for noticing that it’s not and not having the decency to pretend otherwise. “What’s for dinner?”

Dick laughs, maybe as if this is a nervy question. What is Freddy going to do, turn up his nose at the cooking of Dick’s personal chef? 

“Roast chicken,” Dick says. “I figure that’s a crowd pleaser, and I know you’re like Billy. A meat and potatoes kind of guy.”

“Grew up poor, in other words?” Freddy says. 

Billy elbows him as they follow Dick into the yawning foyer. 

“I would remind you that I grew up pretty modestly myself,” Dick says, not looking back at them. “That I didn’t live like this until I was a teenager. But you know that, Freddy.”

At least he’s using their real names now. Freddy gives Billy an apologetic look. 

“Yeah, I know that,” Freddy says, which is as close as an apology to Dick as he can manage. “But for the record, I like all kinds of foods. Considering I grew up in, you know, a major city, maybe that won’t shock you. I’ve even tried things as exotic as sushi!” 

Dick laughs, and it seems genuine when he turns back to them. 

“I suppose another drink is probably in order?” he says. 

Freddy shakes his head. “I need to eat something first.” 

“I’ll take a drink,” Billy says, and Freddy gives him a look that Dick probably sees. 

“Let’s do the tour first,” Dick says. “Dinner should be ready by the time we’re done.” 

Freddy and Billy follow Dick through the dimly lit main hall behind the foyer, with towering ceilings and a series of identical closed doors that call to mind a horror movie. Freddy has been making a mental map of the place since he pulled up in the car, and his heart is beating fast when Dick pops open a hidden panel on the wall at the end of the hallway and uses it to activate a sliding false wall that scrolls away to reveal an elevator. 

“Wow, so,” Freddy says, glancing back over his shoulder. “How many servants do you have who know about this part of the house?”

“I don’t employ servants.” 

“Huh? You clean this place by yourself?”

“It may not be as clean as you’re expecting. But, yes.”

“What about-- Who’s making the roast chicken?”

“I made it. It’s in the oven. Follow me.” 

Freddy gives Billy a wide-eyed _what the fuck_ look when Dick’s back is turned. Billy half-shakes his head, as if in both agreement and admonishment. 

“What about the landscaping?” Freddy asks, unable to get past this as the elevator bears them downward, into what Freddy presumes are cavernous laboratories. “Like, trimming those topiaries?” The ones around Billy’s house, specifically? 

“I like to keep busy,” Dick says, shrugging one shoulder. “And I have a riding mower, among other helpful gadgets.”

“I take care of my own yard,” Billy adds, in a petulant way that almost makes Freddy snort with bewildered laughter.

“It’s too risky to keep a servant,” Dick says, eyes straight ahead as the elevator continues to sink, bringing them well underground in a way that’s beginning to make Freddy slightly nervous. “Bruce had Alfred, of course, but after he passed Bruce was never interested in finding a replacement. Nor was I, after Bruce was gone.”

You did find a fucking replacement, Freddy wants to say, nose twitching. He’s riding in this elevator with us right now. 

He gives Billy a little glance, feeling guilty for thinking of him as Dick’s servant. Billy would object strongly to that characterization of their relationship, but he can’t deny that he’s at Dick’s beck and call, his sole trusted confidante and lab assistant, or whatever the hell. Freddy wonders if Billy helped Dick make the roast chicken. He hopes not. The thought of these two doing something so domestic and cozy together is stomach-turning.

Billy gives Freddy a look that says _what?_ and then _stop!_ , and the elevator finally reaches its destination with a foreboding thunk. 

The elevator doors slide open to reveal the scene Freddy had envisioned, more or less: a sprawling laboratory built into an existing cave system. He’s only ever heard descriptions of Batman’s lair, but he imagines it looked much like this and that Dick modeled this after that one. It’s not even too different from their spooky, beloved Shazam lair, with its high rock walls and dark interiors. Half of the space seems to be dedicated to the larger jet that Dick uses less frequently than the glider, looming in a hangar that adjoins the lab space. 

“Who built this?” Freddy asks as they walk inside. 

“Nature,” Dick says, giving him a smart ass smirk. “If you mean the caves.”

“Right, Dick, got it, and you, what, acquired a mining detonation license and tunneled down into this particular bit of nature yourself? Did you build that elevator shaft yourself, too? The whole Manor? Did you hand-mix the concrete for the foundation and just go up from there, keeping busy--”

“This place pre-dated me,” Dick says. “The previous owner was using the caves as a wine cellar. He was an eccentric, but not a hero. And you are well aware that certain contractors do highly confidential work for heroes, Freddy. Are you here to see what I’m working on or to insinuate that I’m hiding something?”

He turns after saying so, and Freddy stops short in a way that he fears seems conspicuous. At least he’s already on record for accusing Dick of all manner of things over the years, so maybe asking suspicious questions isn’t going to raise too many red flags. 

“Have a little faith, Freddy,” Dick says, walking closer and smiling a little. “I’ve quite literally brought you into my secret lair. Despite never being allowed into yours.”

"Ours is family only,” Freddy says, and then, when Billy gives his back a little flick, standing close behind him, “Yeah, I. I didn’t mean to pry. Still just a little shocked that you don’t have any staff on hand to help around here. The stuff about the house construction was just a bad joke. Sorry.”

Apologizing to Dick is like swallowing nails, but Freddy is relieved when Dick shrugs one shoulder like it’s nothing.

“I guess I’m sensitive about the house, a bit,” Dick says. “I had to leave the old one behind, just. Couldn’t stay there, after.”

“Of course,” Freddy says. The leading theory is that Batman was murdered there, though his body was staged elsewhere for discovery. “I get it.”

Dick gives him a look like, do you, really, and then turns to lead them over to his massive work table, which is scattered with a variety of equipment pieces and half-finished inventions. Freddy has never thought of Dick as a brainy or innovative person, but he seems to want to take credit for a lot of the tech on the table, though Freddy is sure he didn’t invent it himself. He funded its invention, Freddy supposes, and he wonders where these contractors who Dick pays to keep this stuff confidential hang out, exactly. 

“I can show you the room I have devoted to the ongoing investigation,” Dick says, eying Billy, then Freddy. “But I fear it may turn your stomach before dinner.”

“I’d be interested in checking it out,” Freddy says, craning his neck. He’s noticed a door against the far wall of the cave that looks steel-plated, and decides he might as well ask, since it’s not like he’ll get an opportunity to sneak in there when Dick isn’t looking. “Is that the investigation room, through there?” he asks, pointing to the door.

“No,” Dick says, keeping his gaze on Freddy’s. “That’s just a server room.”

Something in his voice just then sends a shiver down Freddy’s spine. Freddy nods and tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

“Is the room you’re talking about down here somewhere, though?” he asks, to change the subject as much as anything. “I don’t mind having a look before we eat. I’ve got a strong stomach.”

“Follow me,” Dick says, somehow less grave on this subject than he seemed when Freddy pointed at the steel-plated door. Freddy sneaks a look at it again as they trail Dick toward his murder-investigation lounge. Whatever’s behind that door is something even darker. Freddy can feel it like a hum, like cold energy barely contained. He makes a note to ask Billy about this later, almost certain already that Billy will tell him he’s never been inside that room. Whether or not Billy believes that’s only because it simply houses servers is another question. Billy’s trust of Dick has always been the sorest spot between him and Freddy, the genesis of what pulled them apart, and Freddy will have to be delicate when he prods at that trust, if he wants this evening to end happily, with him and Billy in bed together.

And, god, he wants that, so much. Needs it, actually.

The room that Dick has devoted to his long investigation into the identity of the Super Killer is as eerie and upsetting as Freddy expected it to be, walls lined with crime scene photos and shelves piled with books that various people around the world have written on potential theories. One is simply titled _WHERE HAS SUPERMAN GONE?_ Freddy touches its spine in passing. He has that one, too. 

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” Billy says, lingering outside the doorway of this room and scanning the walls in shy glances, as if the pictures might leap off the walls and attack him. “I hate it in here.”

“Yes, fine,” Dick says, surprising Freddy by being willing to be alone with him. “Freddy, come look at this.”

Freddy gives Billy a desperate look, even more shocked that Billy is so traumatized by this room that he’s actually willing to leave Freddy and Dick alone together, unsupervised. Billy shrugs and flees. 

Dick is standing at a table in back of the room, paging through what looks like a scrapbook. Freddy comes to stand at his side, wary, his heart beating fast from a combination of opportunity to weasel information out of Dick without Billy overhearing and from the horrors of their surroundings, all of it coming back to him in flashes of red and waves of despair. The pictures on the wall over the table are of the crime scene where the Flash’s body was discovered. Freddy pointedly avoids looking at them. 

“I purchased these for a great deal of money many years ago,” Dick says, indicating the pictures that are secured inside clear plastic pages within the scrapbook. “Supposedly they’re evidence that Superman was at Wayne Manor two days before Bruce was killed. What do you think? Of course, it could be a hoax.”

Freddy leans in to examine the pictures, his heart fully pounding now. In them, there does seem to be a flash of purple-ish, man-shaped something in the sky near the roof of Wayne Manor. 

“Maybe,” Freddy says, squinting. “Who sold these to you?”

“I’ve researched his identity, but haven’t been able to determine it. It was definitely a man, but he used a code name.” 

“What’d he look like?”

“Oh, we never met in person. These were mailed to me.” 

“What made you think he was telling the truth? Why was he even taking pictures of Wayne Manor in the first place?”

“Don’t know, and I didn’t necessarily think they would be legit. I just thought, I’ve got the money. Why not give it a shot? What did I have to lose, you know?”

“Sure.”

Freddy avoids Dick’s piercing stare, thinking of Clark and wondering if these could be his work. He keeps his mouth shut tightly and shakes his head, shrugs. 

“I’m sure you’ve had lots of stuff like this over the years,” he says. “Offers, clues. Leads that don’t necessarily explain anything.”

“Oh, I know who the Super Killer is.”

Freddy looks up at him, eyes blown open. Dick is perfectly calm, stone-faced.

“Um,” Freddy says, blinking at him. “Excuse me?”

“Superman did this, to all of them. All that’s left to uncover, as far as I’m concerned, is where he is now and how to stop him. I don’t even care why he did it, not anymore. If he even has a reason. It’s irrelevant. He was a monster all along, lying in wait.”

“Uhh. You’re basing this on--” Freddy glances down at the pictures with the blurry blue-red smudge in the sky. “That?”

“Freddy.” Dick looks at him like he’s slow, maybe pitiful. It’s one of Freddy’s least favorite ways of being looked at. “I’ve dedicated my life to this search. I know what I’m talking about. Of course I’m not basing my conclusion solely on these photos. There is a wealth of evidence, not all of which I’m at liberty to share with you at this time.” 

“At liberty?” Freddy says, mocking him. He doesn’t add: in other words, you’re not actually sure, because you can’t show me proof right now.

“Billy agrees with me,” Dick says, something cruel spilling back into his stare. 

“I don’t think that’s true, but tell yourself whatever you need to.”

“I’m not especially interested in convincing you. I know you had a childhood fondness for the man. I might have, too, if I’d only known him from afar.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Freddy mutters, without meaning to. 

Dick chuckles. “Anyway. Now that I have you alone--” He glances toward the doorway and listens for Billy’s footfall for a moment. They both heard him get into the elevator and ride back up, so Freddy isn’t sure what the point of this is, and doesn’t like the idea that he’s about to hear something Dick wants to keep from Billy. “I wanted to ask you about your investigation, also. Into whatever happened to Doctor Sivana.” 

“Uhh, he broke out of prison sixteen years ago and hasn’t been heard from since? We did what we could to try to find any hint of where he went off to, or how he got out in the first place, but I think it would be generous to call it an investigation. We were just kids when it happened, and the trail’s been cold ever since. I think he might have tried some kind of magic that both got him out of prison and killed him in the process.”

“Wishful thinking, I fear,” Dick says, as if Freddy doesn’t know that’s exactly what it is. 

“Why are you asking?” Freddy knows Dick and Billy initially bonded over Batman’s investigation into Sivana’s whereabouts and their appeal to Billy for information based on his experience fighting him. Shortly afterward, Batman was murdered. Initially they’d considered Sivana as a suspect, but no evidence had ever surfaced to support this. 

Dick seems to be weighing what he wants to tell Freddy now. He was not forthcoming back then, at least not with Freddy, but Billy passed everything he knew about the search on to Freddy, up to the point when they stopped talking, and after they reconciled it was too tender a subject for Freddy to really even want to be kept in the loop. 

“I’m afraid I got about as far as you in terms of wandering off the cold trail of his disappearance,” Dick says. Freddy gets the sense he’s lying, that he decided at the last minute to pull back. “Had more pressing matters at hand. But speaking of Sivana, you know. I worry about Billy, how he was so young and untested during their confrontation and never really processed it fully. He still has awful nightmares about that man.” 

Freddy feels his blood go cold, and his face burns with an answering heat. 

“Oh, so.” He swallows, mouth dry, and turns to look at the vile pictures on the wall, shocked back into his body by the sight of them. “Right, so, ha. You and Billy, after, after all. He always lied to me about that, but I kind of thought maybe he was, that you two were actually, like, fucking, sleeping together, so, that makes sense--”

“Freddy.” 

Dick laughs under his breath. Freddy almost throws a punch; it’s a good thing he turned down that offer of a second drink. Drinking too much was what made him go from irritated to an irrational lunatic last time he was here. But if he’s about to hear that Dick has been rolling over in bed to soothe away Billy’s nightmares about Sivana ever since Billy first became a ward of Dick’s estate, he’s going to lose his shit regardless of his sobriety. 

“No, it’s fine,” Freddy says, forcing out a laugh that makes him sound insane. “I mean, it’s not, it’s really not, but I figure, you know, the simplest explanation is usually the right one--”

“Stop,” Dick says. He puts his hand on Freddy’s shoulder, which again almost gets him punched. Dick is saved from this fate only by being shorter than Freddy, which makes the gesture slightly less condescending, more ridiculous. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I am not attracted to men, not in the least. Not even your dashing brother.”

“Don’t fucking call him my brother,” Freddy says, pushing Dick’s hand away. 

“Right. Sorry. Force of habit.”

“I don’t see why it would be your habit, since by the time you became friends with him we were pretty fucking far from thinking of each other as brothers.” 

“Mhmm, well, he didn’t share the nature of your relationship with me right away, and I knew you grew up together. Forgive me. It’s just a misconception I can’t seem to shake, as I don’t see you two together very often, and he doesn’t, ah. Kiss and tell, so to speak, when it comes to you.”

“How do you know about his nightmares?” Freddy asks, jaw tightening as his embarrassment looms. He’s glad Billy wasn’t here to see his paranoid overreaction, and wonders if Dick will tell him about it, kind of wants to beg him not to. 

“I know you don’t approve,” Dick says. “But Billy and I are close friends, and we talk frankly with each other about many things. He confided in me about the nightmares.”

For a moment this seems worse than hearing they’ve been secretly fucking all along, but it passes quickly. Freddy takes a deep breath and exhales.

“I need to get out of this room,” he says, laughing weakly. “It’s making me a little nuts. Sorry.”

“Completely understandable. Not everyone has the constitution for this kind of work.”

Freddy rolls his eyes as soon as Dick turns to walk out ahead of him. He just couldn’t resist making a dig. Of course, Freddy can’t really judge him for it. He’s worked in about ten digs against Dick so far, barely provoked. 

“I didn’t realize Billy was still so haunted by those bad dreams,” Freddy says, mumbling this as they make their way back toward the elevator. “That’s-- Awful.” He doesn’t mention that Sivana still appears in his own nightmares from time to time, laughing when Freddy finds he is suddenly powerless, trying to call on the lightning and shrinking instead of expanding into his super-self, transformed back into a skinny, helpless child. 

“Yes,” Dick says. “I find solace in my work, in the hunt for Superman and the dream of bringing him to justice. I wonder if Billy would feel similarly, if he resumed the hunt for Sivana, even just on a casual scale. Has he ever brought it up?”

“Not really,” Freddy says. “There’s always some more pressing thing to handle. We talk about Sivana sometimes, usually just wondering where he’s gone, but we don’t even know where to start with looking for him. If he’d left any clue about how he managed to get out of that jail cell, we could go from there, but it was like he just blinked out of existence. I wonder if someone killed him and covered it up?”

“Whoever would do that.” 

Freddy shakes his head. He has no idea, embarrassingly. The Sivana mystery still bugs him just as much as it did back then, but he feels less certain now that the evil doctor will show up again someday and finish what he started. He worries, too, that being less on guard against the possibility as time goes on is dangerous. 

Upstairs, they find Billy in a sitting room that has huge windows facing the front lawn. There’s a fire going in the room’s massive hearth, and though it’s nearing June the heat is welcome. Dick’s entire house is drafty, and the chill from the underground caves feels like it’s sunk into Freddy’s bones and followed him back up to the first floor. He goes to sit beside Billy on the cracked leather sofa beside the fireplace and accepts a sip of red wine from the crystal tumbler Billy is drinking from, noticing as he does that this place is actually pretty dusty, and that the glass has water spots indicating it was washed inexpertly. 

“Well, you made it back up here without killing each other,” Billy says, smirking at Freddy when Dick has stepped out to check on their meal. 

“I almost decked him twice,” Freddy confesses, and he gulps from the wine again. 

“Jesus, Freddy!” Billy is trying not to laugh about this, but it shows in his eyes. “Why?”

“He-- I’ll tell you later.” Freddy hands the wine glass back and reaches over to squeeze Billy’s leg, hating the thought of him waking up alone in that guest house after a bad nightmare about Sivana, about anything, and not having Freddy’s bed to climb down into. “He wasn’t wrong about that room killing my appetite,” Freddy mutters, regretting his choice of verb after saying so.

Billy sighs and nods. He puts his hand on top of Freddy’s, and Freddy wonders if it’s even true that Billy thinks Superman did it. He knows Billy doesn’t necessarily _not_ think that’s what happened, at least not in the way that Freddy does, but he’s never gotten the impression that Billy has really been able to make himself believe it either.

“Gentlemen,” Dick says, appearing so suddenly that they both startle and pull their hands apart, as if they’d been caught by a family member. Dick smiles, seeming amused by this. “Dinner is served,” he says, gesturing comically to his left. “Shall we?”

The dining room at Grayson Manor is just as Freddy pictured it: enormous, comprised almost entirely of a long, skinny table with chairs to seat forty, giant windows looking out at the dismal backyard, which looks like it could use some landscaping, weeds growing tall around moss-choked fountains. 

“Do a lot of entertaining?” Freddy jokes when he sits at Dick’s left, annoyed that Dick took the seat at the head of the table and served their plates at the chairs that flank his, so that Billy and Freddy are sitting across from rather than beside each other. “You're a fan of big dinner parties?” Freddy says when Dick looks at him. “Fill out this whole table often?”

“The table is an antique I inherited this from Wayne Manor,” Dick says, expression humorless. “It belonged to Bruce. And, no, Freddy. I don’t entertain here.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry.” Freddy gives Billy a panicked look when Dick cuts into his chicken. Billy wrinkles his nose like, good one. “But, um. The other Titans used to hang around with you guys here sometimes, right? After Billy moved in?”

“That was when I was still at Bruce’s old house,” Dick says. “Settling things up, arranging to purchase this place and move on. Sometimes the Titans spent time with me there, yes. But it was Billy who really kept me from going out of my mind while I closed up that chapter of my life, in that house where it-- Happened. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and usually my only company here.”

“It was a shitty time for both of us,” Billy mutters, eyes on his plate. “Back then.”

Freddy doesn’t want to think about that summer and how it ended. He gulps from the glass of wine Dick poured for him when they sat and then reminds himself not to overdo it, setting the glass down hard and shoveling some roast potatoes into his mouth. Once they’ve all started eating, a silence settles over the table and quickly becomes awkward, though for his part Dick seems indifferent. 

“Um, so,” Freddy says. “It’s still Nightwing, right?” 

It was the only thing he could think to say, uncomfortably close to an insult he’d lobbed at Dick during that last disastrous attempt at a social occasion featuring the three of them. 

“Yes,” Dick says. “Why?”

“I dunno, just don’t see a lot of press coverage about you anymore.”

“I work quietly. It was Bruce’s way, too. He never liked the fame.”

“Mhm, yeah. I don’t love it myself.” 

“I think it has its purpose,” Billy says, giving Freddy a look of wounded protest that he finds adorable. He wonders how fast they can wrap this up. “I mean, it exposes us a little, sure, but it gives people hope. It makes them feel safe.”

“Safer than they should, perhaps,” Dick says. 

“Nn-- Yeah, maybe, but. That’s not worthless, that sense that if you’re in trouble, someone might come out of the woodwork, out of nowhere, and save you.” 

He glances at Freddy, who knows he’s thinking about Rosa and Victor, how they changed everything for him. And maybe he’s thinking of Freddy, a little, too, in that regard.

“Ah, yes,” Dick says, smiling vaguely down at his plate.

Because of course he knows that feeling, too. 

Dinner ends on a down note, but at least nobody has thrown a punch or called each other names by the time Dick is walking them to the front door, seeming a little quiet and melancholy but amiable enough when he thanks Freddy for coming. Freddy supposes he’s stealing Dick’s evening companion from him by driving Billy away, and he wonders what they would have done after dinner if Freddy wasn’t here. Sat gravely contemplating the fireplace and getting drunk off red wine? Video games? Training down in the lair?

He decides he doesn’t want to know, and braces himself for Billy’s questioning as they pull away from Grayson Manor in his car, auto drive turned back on since Freddy feels clear-headed enough but also a little dazed, more from the experience of strolling through this part of Billy’s life than from the modest amount of beer and then wine that he drank. 

“Well, that went better than last time,” Freddy says to break the ice, glancing cautiously over at Billy, who is already giving him an expectant stare.

“Freddy, what the hell is going on? What is this all about? And why didn’t you tell me the truth about whatever you’re doing here in the first place?” 

“Oh boy, three big questions, right out of the gate.”

“Don’t try to be funny right now. I’m fucking pissed off at you, okay?”

“Okay, okay. But don’t be, please? I have a good explanation, and, ah. I really want tonight to end up like we planned.”

“Yeah, me too, which is why I’m so goddamn annoyed by you. I thought you wanted to fix things? Now you’re lying to me, and, what? Spying on Dick? For who?”

Freddy groans. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, hating that he didn’t even practice how to confess this. He was dreading the fact that he knew he would too much. 

“Which part don’t you know.”

“The who. This guy-- I have a secret confidant, okay? I was going to tell you when we met up on the top of One South the other night--”

“What-- Huh? Hang on, no. You’ve been doing some shady shit for over a _week_ now?”

“Barely! And it’s not shady. Look, he told me the whole deal would be off if I breathed a word to you, and even now I’m kind of freaking out that I’m screwing up the timing--”

“The _timing_? Of what? Oh my god, what have you gotten yourself into? Who the fuck is supposedly confiding in you?”

“Calm down, please?” Freddy attempts full on begging I-love-you-please-don’t-hurt-me eyes, not sure if they’ll help, already shaky from how much this echoes their fight when they were eighteen, when it was Freddy who lost his mind with rage when he found out who Billy had been confiding in, secretly, for weeks. 

“You don’t get to tell me to calm down about this,” Billy says, eyes hard, because he’s certainly thinking the same thing, that the tables have turned in the cruelest way possible, if they’re really about to have another livid fight about keeping this kind of thing from each other. 

“I know, I know. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Okay, look. Somebody contacted me-- As Freddy, not Bullet-- And he says he knows where Superman is. He told me all I had to do was check in on Dick and what Dick is up to, and he’ll tell me more.”

Billy is silent. He looks purely shocked at first, then the fury creeps back in. 

“What.”

“No, look, I know that sounds bad--”

“Who is this person and what exactly has he done to make you trust him enough to fucking lie to me, first of all, and maybe betray my friend of twelve years? Jesus, Freddy,” Billy says, exhaling with what sounds too much like deep, disbelieving sadness for Freddy to bear. “I know you hate Dick, I’ve made my peace with that, but what in the holy shit are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

“You’re not letting me explain! Just, this guy-- He’s called Clark, he’s older than us, he looks like a hero but he doesn’t have any powers. I don’t know, and you’re not going to like hearing this, but there’s just something about him that made me trust him, and I figured, you know, what’s the harm in just going to see what Dick is up to myself, finally? Yeah? So then, once I’d seen that, I could decide whether to report back to Clark about it. Or not.”

Billy turns away and looks out the passenger side window, breathing hard. He’s jiggling his left leg like he wants to lift it and kick out the windshield. 

“Okay, you’re freaking out, and that’s fine! I get it, I mean, I would be, too, in your position. Obviously. But, listen. Billy. Billy? Listen to me for a minute, okay? What’s-- What’s behind that steel door down in the caves? In Dick’s lair? Is it really a server room? Have you been inside, or seen him go in--”

“You are really incredible,” Billy says, jaw tight. “I cannot fucking believe you right now.”

“Goddammit, why can’t you just trust me more than you trust him!” Freddy is close to shouting, knowing that he hasn’t earned the anger building between his ribs but needing to let it out, because it hurts. “I know this sounds awful, okay, but I have this feeling, and. Dick is weird, Billy! He gave me weird vibes at least twice tonight. Concerning vibes.”

“Concerning vibes. Right, got it. And I’m just too much of a moron to have picked up on anything like that in twelve years of almost nonstop being in the guy’s company. But you’re there for one night and you see some door--”

“Can you at least answer my question about the door? Huh? Please? Has he let you in there?”

“No, okay!” Billy says, roaring this at Freddy in a way that makes him flinch against the driver side door. “You think Dick lets me into every corner of that place? As a matter of fact, I have not been in the server room, Freddy. And I’m not too much of a fucking idiot to not have wondered if that’s what’s really back there myself, by the way. None of this gives you the excuse to enact some-- Some plan to investigate Dick without telling me, using me-- Using our, this, my attempt to--”

Billy gets too flustered to speak, and when he puts the window down Freddy knows what’s about to happen. 

“Oh, no, please--” Freddy says, hating how weak and hopeless his voice sounds.

“SHAZAM!” Billy shouts, pulling himself out the window already. 

As soon as he can fly, he’s gone.

Freddy cranes his neck to see what direction Billy will disappear off to, thinking of maybe calling down his own lightning and following him, but Billy is too fast, blasting out of sight in a blink. When he’s gone Freddy hears himself making a broken, whining noise under his breath, not sure when that started.

The car is still driving along toward Billy’s guest house, still on auto. Freddy sits listless and newly broken behind the wheel, breathing heavily and trying to figure out what to do. He’s still trying when a bolt of red streaks down and lands in front of his car, ahead on the road.

“Jesus fuck!” Freddy screams, grabbing the wheel and slamming his foot against the brake on instinct, though the car is already emergency auto-braking, warning lights flashing on the dash. 

Billy is far enough ahead on the road that there’s no chance of collision, but Freddy is still shaken and more than a little pissed off when Billy blasts over to float beside the driver’s side door and motions for Freddy to put his window down. 

“I just remembered something,” Billy says when Freddy slides the window down, gaping at him with disbelief. Billy still looks angry, hands on his hips as his feet come to rest against the road, his cape billowing out behind him in the wind. He’s in full ‘Red Cyclone deals with a supervillain’ mode, that supervillain currently being Freddy. 

“Wh-What?” Freddy asks, heart pounding, both hands still locked tight around the wheel while the car asks him if he wants it to resume driving, as the obstacle ahead has disappeared. 

“What did you say this guy’s name was?” Billy asks, frowning. “The alleged Superman informant?”

“Clark,” Freddy says, not sure if this question should make him feel hopeful or extra terrified that he’s wrecked everything. “Or, anyway, that’s the name he gave me. Why?”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Billy curses under his breath and turns in a circle, touches his hair. “Yeah, I. I think I might know that guy. You said he looks like a hero, like that archetype?”

“Uh-huh. Tall with--”

“Glasses?”

“Yes! That’s him! They’re, like, weirdly intense glasses, too. Memorable.” 

“Right. Fuck.” 

“Are you getting back in the car now?” Freddy asks. “Or should I pull over and get out?”

Billy’s nose twitches. He doesn’t want to forgive Freddy yet, maybe ever, but something is clearly going on. He groans and walks back around to the passenger side. 

“I’m so glad you came back,” Freddy blurts as soon as Billy pulls the door shut, seated beside him. 

“Don’t,” Billy says, looking ahead at the windshield. “Drive, okay? Off Dick’s property. We’re not going back to my house while I’m this pissed off at you.”

“Okay, um. I’ll just put my address in,” Freddy says, resetting the destination and turning auto drive back on. The car glides forward, picks up speed. 

Billy doesn’t speak again until he’s entered the code to open the gates to Grayson Manor and they’re passing out through them, back out on the empty countryside highway. Freddy sneaks looks at him, afraid to say anything. 

“Clark Kent,” Billy says. “That’s his name.”

“Oh, god, yes. That’s him! Must be. He called himself CK when he first contacted me.”

“You’ve met him? In person?”

“Yeah, just the once. That was when he asked me to try to look in on Dick. How the hell do you know him?”

“If it’s really the same guy, I met him years ago, when I was Cyclone. I had just done some solo rescue and he was writing about it. He was a reporter who covered the hero beats. This was really early on, he was only like the second or third reporter I’d ever talked to. He said he knew Superman, through having covered these hero stories for years, and that he could put us in touch. That was how I ended up inviting Superman to come to school and meet you.”

“Oh, wow,” Freddy says, a hopeful thing lifting in his chest. Something is happening, something big, and it’s not all bad, not now that Billy came back after blasting away. “Yeah, he even mentioned that when we met, that he knew I’d met Superman as a kid, holy shit. He said he’d read it in a news article.”

“Maybe he wrote one about it,” Billy mutters. “But I don’t remember an article. At least not in the Philly papers, and where else would it be published? Rosa and Victor would have cut it out of the paper and framed it.”

“True, yeah! Fuck, okay, well. He said he was mostly reaching out to me because he could get to Dick through you, and I-- He knows you and I are friends.”

Billy gives him a sideways _how dare you_ look, but it’s not pure rage. There’s some softness and curiosity in his eyes, too. 

“I guess he really does know Superman!” Freddy says, unable to stop himself from being elated about this. “If he put you in touch with him back then.” 

“I remember thinking Clark Kent looked like a hero,” Billy says. “Or that he just felt like one, or something, same as you. And I also thought, back then-- I wonder if he _is_ Superman.” 

“Oh, jesus. Billy! Could he be? You think? Holy shit, this is amazing.”

“Yeah, pretty amazing, Freddy. You might be spying on me and Dick on behalf of the Super Killer himself.” 

“Don’t do that, please. I know Dick thinks it’s him, but why would Superman be killing heroes sporadically like this? And then just staying quiet about it, hiding, like he’s afraid of the authorities? It makes no sense! If he really wanted to do some damage and go evil he could be ruling this whole planet no problem, sitting on a throne of bones. But--”

“You said he had no powers,” Billy says, cutting Freddy off with a sharp hand gesture. “Why do you think that? Just because he told you so?”

“Well, yeah,” Freddy says, mumbling, embarrassed. “But it was more the way he said it. Like he was pissed off about it. Billy, ho-holy shit, do you think Superman got depowered somehow? Like, that could be related to what’s happening to the others, yeah?”

“I think it’s more likely that he’s pretending to be a powerless citizen and jerking you around in order to find out what Dick has on him. Fuck, you cannot see this guy again, whoever he is.” 

Freddy doesn’t agree to this plan. He mopes in silence for a while, sighing and sneaking glances at Billy, who still looks mad. He also appears to be deep in thought, jaw shifting. 

“So you had the same thought about Dick’s server room?” Freddy says, edging back toward civil conversation. 

Billy grunts and says nothing. Freddy has an idea.

“He told me he’s worried about you,” Freddy says, and this gets Billy to look at him, at least, frowning again. “Dick, he said you’re having nightmares about Sivana?”

Billy’s eyes widen a little. He looks pissed off, but not at Freddy, suddenly, which was the plan.

“He told you that?” Billy scoffs. “What the hell. Why does he think it’s your business? He’s _worried_ about me? Because I have bad dreams about the past? That’s fucking rich, coming from him.”

“Ha! I thought the same thing--”

“Oh, shut up, Freddy, I’m still mad at you. But yeah, I have nightmares, so what? What’s Dick’s, like, thesis about why this is some kind of big problem he needs to worry about?”

Oh boy, Freddy thinks, careful to keep his expression neutral and not reveal how giddy he is that Billy is getting legitimately mad at Dick for betraying this confidence. 

“By the way,” Billy says, before Freddy can reply, “I have nightmares about him, too. That’s something he doesn’t know.” 

“About-- Dick?” Freddy’s heart starts beating faster, but he’s not exactly giddy about this. Something is off with Dick. More than usual. Maybe Billy can feel it, too. 

“Forget it,” Billy mutters, looking away. “Obviously I can’t trust either of you to keep secrets.”

“Hey, no, look at me!” Freddy tugs on Billy’s arm until he does. “What-- What nightmares? About Dick, like. What happens in them?”

Billy purses his lips, trying to decide if he wants to tell Freddy about this. Freddy won’t let up until he does. This seems important already, a bad sign. 

“I have this one recurring dream,” Billy says, muttering, “Where Dick comes into my bedroom at night and draws blood from me, like. Into these vials.”

“Oh my _god_!!” 

Freddy shouts this so loudly that the car’s emergency stop activates. 

“Jesus, Freddy!” Billy whirls on him after they’ve both jerked forward against their seatbelts. “It’s not that--”

“Are you sure they’re even dreams?” Freddy asks, his breath nearing a hyperventilating panic already. He grabs Billy’s arm and shakes him. “What if it’s really happening? Billy, holy fuck, why didn’t you tell me this! How long has this been going on?”

“I-- I don’t know, probably ever since I first moved in--”

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” 

“Stop, Freddy, they’re just dreams! And it’s, like, metaphorical, okay? It’s my guilt manifesting, because I feel like I’m this blood sucking leech in his life, you know, just letting him pay for everything, buy me cars--” 

“No, no, no, no, okay, no--”

“Yes, Freddy! Yes. I don’t wake up from these dreams feeling woozy, like I lost blood, or with puncture marks on my shoulder. It’s not real. They’re just dreams.”

“Is there anything else?” Freddy asks, wide-eyed and already dismissing Billy’s attempt to say this could possibly only be just a recurring dream. He feels it in his _soul_ , on a primal panic level: Dick has been stealing Billy’s blood for some reason. For years, this has been happening, in reality. Freddy knows it in his bones, and there’s a scared little thing in Billy’s eyes when their gaze meets, telling him that Billy might know it on some level, too. “What else?” Freddy asks, shaking him again. “What else do you remember about these dreams? Anything?”

“I, I don’t know, why does it--”

“Just think, Billy, tell me!”

“He’s wearing, like, these glasses, in the dreams.” Billy pinches his eyes shut, brow wrinkling while he tries to call up the images. “Or, like, googles, more like? And they glow, sorta, like they’re powered-up. They’re scary, um. In the dreams, I’m scared of him.”

“Is Sivana ever there?” Freddy asks, fingers tightening around Billy’s arm.

“What?” Billy snorts and shakes his head as if the suggestion is crazy. “No, those dreams are totally different. Those ones are more like bad memories, like, you know. When we were kids. Where I’m drowning, just this feeling of being held underwater more than anything.” 

“Pull over,” Freddy says to the car when he sees they’re coming up on the ruins of an abandoned old gas station that was never converted to a power-charging station, too far away from civilization to be profitable as such. He switches into manual mode and drives the car around back, behind the shell of the station’s old convenience store building. 

When the car is parked, Freddy flings his seatbelt off and leans over to pull Billy into his arms. Billy is a little stiff, but only for a half a breath. He unfastens his seatbelt and moans, slumping against Freddy and nuzzling his face into Freddy’s neck, tucks one massive arm around his back and holds him close.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” Freddy says, squeezing him. “Sorry, sorry. I never should have pushed you away back then, pushed you even closer to him. I felt like my heart had been cut out, and I, I acted--” He thinks about the one thing he said when they were eighteen that he’s always felt like he can never take back and whines miserably against Billy’s shoulder, hating the memory, holding him so tight. “And now I’ve done it to you, hiding this shit from you, all this-- It’s so messed up, I’m so sorry.”

Billy sighs, his breath hot against Freddy’s skin. He shakes his head a little before pulling back to look at him. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Billy says, whispering. “Freddy, what. What’s going on?”

“Take it off, okay?” Freddy says, smoothing his fingertips just inside the high, tight collar of Billy’s costume. “I want-- You, can it just be you for a minute?”

“This is me, too,” Billy says, but he gives Freddy a soft kiss on the lips and turns to open the passenger side door, calls the lightning.

“Come here,” Freddy breathes out when Billy closes the door again, back in his street clothes and stripped of his armor. Billy is already moving back into Freddy’s arms, then into his lap, straddling him.

They kiss with increasingly frantic need, Billy’s knees pressed tight around Freddy’s sides in the cramped driver’s seat area, his ass planted heavily on Freddy’s thighs. Freddy’s hip is aching already from the weight of him, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t want Billy to lift away or stop kissing him like he needs it, as if their desperate kissing is healing him, fixing things, making everything okay.

“Want you inside me,” Billy says, breathing this out against Freddy’s mouth. His hands are cupped around Freddy’s throat, gentle and shaky, thumbs stroking over Freddy’s quickened pulse and the bob of his Adam’s apple. “Freddy, please. I need it.” 

Freddy moans and nods. He knew it wasn’t just him thinking about how long it’s been.

“Glove compartment,” he says, and Billy smirks like: you still keep lube there in case I jump you like this, huh? “Yeah, go ahead and thank me for it,” Freddy says, accidentally out loud. 

“Thank you,” Billy says, and he’s fucking serious, pupils blowing out. 

Oh god, Freddy thinks, watching him fumble the lube out and snap it open, because is he going to ask Billy to do that again while riding his dick, is he going to make Billy say _thank you, Freddy, oh, thank you_? 

Almost definitely, he thinks, dragging Billy down for a kiss that makes him feel unhinged, their teeth snagging on each other’s lips and both of them breathing wildly already. The inside of the car is starting to get hot, windows fogging. Freddy doesn’t give a fuck, doesn’t turn the car on just to use the air. He wants it to feel like a sauna in here by the time they’re done.

“What are you doing?” Freddy asks, whispering this against Billy’s lips when he’s pulled back to rub lube over his fingers. “Gonna do it yourself?” 

“I-- Yeah--”

“Don’t want me to do it?”

“No, I do, but, nnh--” 

“Shh, gimme that.” 

Freddy slicks his own fingers while Billy pulls open the front of his pants, breathing hard against Freddy’s face and looking down between them, at his tented erection. Freddy’s is pressed under Billy’s squirming ass, throbbing for him, ready. Billy doesn’t seem to know what to do next once he’s got his pants open, unwilling to pull away from Freddy long enough to get out of them. That’s okay: Freddy reaches down into the back of Billy’s pants, slides his wrist in past the waistband of his boxers, and drags his slicked fingers in between his ass cheeks, grinning up at Billy when he moans and throws his head back just for this.

“Relax,” Freddy says, pressing down on Billy’s thigh with his other hand. “You’re tight,” he observes, prodding at him gently, teasing.

“Nnh, yess, just--”

“No, don’t tell me what to do. I know what to do. Don’t I?”

“Freddy,” Billy sobs out in answer, nodding and hiding his burning face against Freddy’s throat while he tries to get his legs open wider for Freddy’s first hot push inside him. Freddy goes too slow, intentionally, just his fingertip pushed in and rubbing in wet circles. 

They both moan low in their chests when Freddy finally slides his finger in deeper, as deep as it can get and not even half as deep as he’s about to be, fucking up into Billy for the first time in forever. Freddy breathes out in a long, choppy exhale and rubs at the small of Billy’s increasingly sweaty back with his other hand while fingering him open, taking his time. He needs this to last, both because that’s always what he wants, with Billy, and because has no idea what happens next.  

Billy drools against his throat and starts snapping his hips, whining a little when he wants more. Freddy reaches up to give Billy’s hair a little tug, kisses his forehead and drags his fingertip over his prostate just right, swallowing down a kind of victorious laugh when Billy shivers all over and almost squeaks, hips snapping back with new urgency. 

“God,” Freddy says, realizing this is probably unwise but unable to hold it in. “Has nobody been taking care of you? Like this? Hmm?”

“Fuck,” Billy says, and there’s a little bite of anger in it. His face is still hidden against Freddy’s neck, so hot there. “No, nnh. Just. Please.” 

Freddy isn’t sure if he’s begging for another finger, Freddy’s dick, or something more dear, like please don’t talk about other people right now, please don’t ruin this, it’s too good, please.

Giving Billy everything he wants remains Freddy’s weakness, so he does: first another finger, though he’s sure Billy could already take his cock hard and love every inch of it. Freddy takes his time anyway, pumping his fingers slow and steady, until Billy is shaky and leaning back against the wheel for traction while he fucks himself against Freddy’s hand. Freddy is sure he’s going to have a wrist cramp when all is said and done, but he couldn’t care less, and could stare at Billy falling apart on his fingers like this for hours. Billy is beyond perfect in the light from the cloud-dimmed moon outside, rubbing at his chest and whimpering gratefully when Freddy reaches up to take over for him, pinching his fingers around one nipple, then the other. Billy is still wearing his shirt, still dressed entirely for the most part, and it’s hot, but Freddy needs to get these pants out of the way now, can’t wait any longer to be inside him. 

“Off,” he says, yanking at the waistband of Billy’s pants and withdrawing his fingers slowly, dragging a broken moan from Billy when he lingers around the rim, rubbing there with his knuckles in the way he knows Billy loves.

God, he thinks, watching Billy clumsily struggle out of his pants and boxers, hunched and desperate: when are you going to let me spend the rest of my life giving you everything you love? He catches Billy’s in mid-swoon and holds him back by the shoulders when they’re just short of kissing, keeping their gaze locked for a moment longer. 

“What?” Billy asks, doing his sad eyes. 

“Nothing,” Freddy says. “I just. I love you, okay?”

“Oh.” Billy nods and presses his mouth to Freddy’s, kisses him sweetly and whispers, “Love you, too,” like it hurts a little to say so because he means it so much.

Also because it’s been a while since they said it to each other like this, or at all.

Billy is too gone to bother with easing himself onto Freddy’s dick, and when he brings himself down fast and hisses like it burns all the way in Freddy thinks maybe it really has been a while since Billy had this from anyone else, too. He’s allowed himself to fantasize before that Billy has never let anyone else in like this, inside him. Freddy is probably projecting, since he fucked around with other guys in college but has only ever had one man inside him, just Billy. 

“Okay?” Freddy asks when Billy is fully seated and beginning to relax into the feeling, his head lolling back and his lips pressed together tightly, breath coming hard through his nose. 

“Yuh, yeah,” Billy says, surging forward to curl into Freddy’s arms when they wrap around him. Billy hides his face against Freddy’s throat again, now with a sigh that sounds so relieved, blissed out with surrender to this feeling, this fullness he loves so much. 

They stay like that for a while, windows fully fogged now and Billy so sweet in Freddy’s arms and hugged around his cock that it’s almost like this is all they need, as if this could be their natural conclusion, with Freddy still throbbing and hard inside Billy, whose dick is leaking onto Freddy’s shirt and leaving a wet puddle that Freddy can feel against his skin, through the fabric. Freddy pushes his hands up under the back of Billy’s shirt, which is damp now, too. He strokes Billy’s sweat-slick skin and nudges his nose into Billy’s hair, breathes him in and smirks when the first little upward twitch of his hips pulls a stuttering gasp out of Billy. 

“You like that?” Freddy asks, muttering this like a threat or a dare and punctuating it with another twitch of his hips, which earns him another gasp. “Hmm?”

“You fucking know I do,” Billy says, sort of growling this out with his face still pressed against Freddy’s skin, his voice all thick and needful already. “Freddy, _ah_. Fuck, yes, please--”

“Lift up onto your knees,” Freddy says, speaking softly and nudging him into action. “Gonna fuck you a little before you ride me.”

Billy whimpers and nods, obeys.

It’s already tempting to just clamp his hands tight around Billy’s waist and snap his hips up hard, but Freddy feels so totally in control of this that it’s not hard to resist the urge. He moves slow, deliberate, his aching hip tweaking a little with every measured upward push and downward drag, that little bite of pain somehow only making the feeling of fucking himself up into Billy at this tortuous, perfect pace that much more intensely good. 

Billy still has a habit of trying to grab onto something overhead when he’s losing his mind on Freddy’s dick, back arching and his hands searching the roof of the car for the wooden slat of the bunk bed that used to hold onto while he rode Freddy or while Freddy fucked him like this, until Billy’s thighs start to tremble from the effort of not slamming himself down to get what he needs. Billy is whining at the back of his throat, chewing his lip, begging for more without having to use words. Freddy is in heaven but can’t wait much longer himself to make the car rock on its axles with their fully unhinged need of each other. 

“Tell me what you need,” Freddy says, bringing his hands down to Billy’s thighs. 

“I-- You know--” 

“What, you’re too shy to ask for it? Go ahead, I want to hear.”

“Nnn, Freddy.” Billy wrenches his lust-blown eyes open and gives him a look of minor annoyance before falling forward to kiss him. It’s a pointed, sort of bruising kiss, and Billy bites softly at Freddy’s lower lip afterward, eyes locked on his. “Let me ride you,” Billy says. His voice has grown almost gravelly with need. “Please, please, I need--”

“What?” Freddy asks, sincerely asking. 

“To feel-- This, like. Nh, Freddy. Like you, you’re catching me, or. I don’t know, that’s how it feels, like I’m falling and falling and falling and you’re catching me, every time.” 

“Jesus, yes, god, go, do it--”

Neither of them has any reservations after that, Billy slamming himself down hard and groaning so powerfully for how good it feels that Freddy thinks they might be heard from the road, if any other cars ever drive by out here. Freddy is too tired from his previous knife’s-edge efforts to really do much but sprawl out beneath him and make just as much noise, spitting curses and holding onto Billy’s slick sides as best he can while Billy throws himself into it with abandon, arching back onto the steering wheel and clawing his hands up under his shirt to touch himself in a way that makes Freddy think he might actually rip the shirt open in an agony of pleasure. As soon as Freddy touches his dick, Billy comes with a pulled-apart cry, coating Freddy’s shirt in come and launching himself forward again, hands going to Freddy’s shoulders. 

His forehead is pressed to Freddy’s as he comes down from it, hips still rocking. Freddy sweeps a shaking hand through Billy’s hair, which is wet enough now to flick droplets of sweat out when Freddy strokes him. The car is steaming with their body heat, and Freddy feels like he might faint, but first he’s got to come, he’s so close, going to unload as soon as he lets himself drag his cock hard up into Billy again.

“Oh fuck,” Freddy says, because somehow only then does it occur to him that they didn’t use a condom. He swallows heavily and figures it’s not an issue, because surely Billy didn’t also totally lose his mind for this and just fall right back into old habits without thinking, yeah?

“What?” Billy says, framing Freddy’s face with his hands. He kisses Freddy’s nose and then moves down to his mouth, pulling back when Freddy’s lips aren’t responsive. “What?” he says again, stroking Freddy’s face with his thumbs.

“I, uh. We forgot the condom, is that okay?”

Billy snorts and half-smiles, then the sad eyes are there, but not in a regretful way. 

“Freddy,” he says, voice still cut-up. “I haven’t fucked anyone but you in three years.”

“Wh-- What, how--”

“Shh, just. We’ll talk. You need to come, yeah? Hmmm?” Billy gives him a hot kiss, licking and coaxing at his lips until Freddy gets the presence of mind back and presses his tongue out to meet Billy’s. Freddy moans into Billy’s mouth and starts to shake all over, feeling far too much to contain all of it anymore. “Yeah?” Billy says, pulling back to whisper this against Freddy’s lips. “Need to come inside me? Fuck, yeah, you do. Freddy, you’re so close. Nn, please. Do it, I want you to. Fill me up.” 

Freddy makes an embarrassing sound of pure overwhelmed bliss that joins hands with the agony of holding back his orgasm and yanks him full into bone-shaking pleasure as soon as he fucks himself up into Billy again, wild and uncontrolled. Billy moans out encouragement and pushes down to meet him, smashes their mouths together and is kissing Freddy when he finally comes with a sob that Billy swallows up for him, licking across his lips and whispering _god, yes, thank you_. 

Billy pulls himself off slow, wincing when he feels the mess they’ve already made of Freddy’s car getting worse. Freddy doesn’t care about that. He gathers Billy against him again, back into his lap, and wraps not just his arms but both legs around Billy, too, squeezing himself around Billy as if their combined body heat isn’t uncomfortably intense even through their clothes. Freddy's legs tire quickly and he lets his feet thump down against the floor of the car again, knees spilling apart. He keeps his arms around Billy and reclines the seat back as if they're going to make this their bed for tonight.

For a long time they stay like that, breathing audibly and holding onto each other, Billy’s head resting against Freddy’s collarbone, Freddy’s chin tucked over him. 

“Why’d you stop?” Freddy asks finally, stroking his thumb over the rim of Billy’s ear in a way that reliably makes him shiver. Freddy smiles tiredly when it works, feeling like he could fall asleep right here, like this, for days. 

“Stop what?” Billy asks. His voice is small, nervous, like he knows. 

“Seeing other people.”

“‘Cause I never really wanted to in the first place. And the older I got, the more depressing it was to try.” 

Freddy moans regretfully and pinches his eyes shut against the threat of tears. He holds Billy tight, until it passes, then touches Billy’s chin. Billy sniffles and lifts his face, shifting his head to Freddy’s shoulder.

“Billy,” Freddy says, not sure what he’s going to say next.

It turns out not to matter, because his car’s dash lights up with a new message, relayed from his phone. 

Billy turns and reads it along with Freddy, sniffling again. The message is from Clark, who is still listed as CK in Freddy’s contacts:

_I have some news that you need to hear urgently. Meet me in one hour at Darling Bowling Alley in Glenside. Same rules as before: come alone, leave your phone in the car, and tell no one._

“Rules,” Billy says weakly, twitching within Freddy’s grip. He sighs and sits up, rubs at his face. “I’m coming,” he says when he looks at Freddy again.

Freddy smiles, not because he’s going to allow it, just because he knew Billy would say that.

“Not this time,” Freddy says. “Let me get more info first, and reintroduce the idea that you could help us, that you won’t tip Dick off. I won’t tell him anything about Dick, I swear. Not yet.”

“Tell him whatever you want, Freddy. Dick doesn’t have any real secrets that you and I know about. Everyone knows he thinks Superman did it. If he actually ever went to the grocery store himself he’d tell the clerk that Superman killed Batman every time he checked out. Just don’t tell Clark that Dick is Nightwing, obviously.” 

“I won’t. But if Clark is really Superman, he already knows. I feel like he knows I’m Bullet.”

“That’s not good, Freddy. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting you do this alone.” 

“Please, Billy? I’ll be okay, I swear. If you don’t hear from me within the hour, look, you have Clark’s number, you know where we met up, and I don’t think he’s going to try anything at a bowling alley in Glenside, just a hunch.” 

Billy puts his hands over his face and groans. He looks ready to pass out when he pulls his hands away, so tired. Freddy touches his cheek and neatens his sex-wrecked hair. 

“If I don’t hear from you by--” Billy checks the clock on the car’s dash. “Ten o’clock, I’m calling the whole family in on this.” 

“Oh, god, that won’t be necessary--”

“Then check in with me by ten, and we’ll go from there.”

Freddy nods and kisses him. Billy’s lips are a little tense against his, and he looks displeased when they pull apart, but not angry anymore, not really. 

“I wish we’d done it like this back then,” Freddy says, though he really shouldn’t risk getting emotionally frank right now. He’ll have to transform to make it to Glenside in time, and needs to get a move on. 

“Like this,” Billy says vaguely, looking down at Freddy’s chest. “Yeah, you mean. If I had just come back straight away, after we screamed at each other.”

“It’s-- I don’t blame you for not-- I shouldn’t have said--”

“No, I get it,” Billy says, hurrying this out. He gives Freddy a peck on the lips that’s as good as begging him: please, not now. “We’ll talk, okay. After you meet up with this guy. Get as much info as you can, and don’t do anything crazy. Don’t do anything he asks you to. Don’t even leave your phone in the car.”

“I have to!”

“Why? How will he know if you don’t?”

“He’s Superman! I mean, maybe. If he is, he can see through things.”

Billy wrinkles his nose in distaste. Freddy laughs, feeling insane. His heart is beating fast again. Billy sighs when he sees Freddy checking the time. 

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Billy says, dismounting with a wince and dumping himself into the passenger seat. “Oof,” he says, flexing his shoulders back. “Wow, yeah, um. It’s been a while.”

“You okay?” Freddy reaches for him, squeezing his shoulder and wishing like hell that they could do this meetup with Clark together, everything together.

“Mhm, I’ll be fine.” Billy sighs and turns his cheek against the back of the seat, looking over at Freddy. “As long as you’re fine, I mean. Freddy, I’m worried.”

“I know, but. Call me crazy, but I feel hopeful. I feel like, I don’t know. Like things are turning around for us. Not just for you and me, but for superheroes. You’re the one who wants to believe that even more than me, right? Wonder Woman’s speech, and so forth?”

“Wants to being the operative words. Be careful.”

“Of course! I’m always careful. I’m the careful one, remember?”

Billy makes a soft noise and gives him one last kiss before climbing out of the car. 

Freddy follows him out. He transforms and floats off the ground in his usual instantaneous way, staring down at Billy, who keeps his mundane form, hands in fists at his sides, as if the effort to keep from flying after Freddy is painful.

“Take the car back to my place,” Freddy says, floating higher. “You still have the key, right?”

“Of course I still have the key. Freddy--”

“No, I’m serious, I don’t want you at Dick’s tonight, not even in the guesthouse. I’ll meet you at my place when I’m done with Clark. In my bed,” he adds, because, “I still. Need, you know. The other part. Sleeping together.”

“Jesus, yes.” Billy gives Freddy his sad eyes, shoulders lifting and then dropping dramatically when he sighs. “Go,” he says. “Oh but, here.” He crawls back into the car and pulls Freddy’s crutch from the backseat. “You’ll need this when you get there,” he says, holding it up. 

“Thanks.” Freddy takes it and tucks it under his arm, feeling awkward just holding it, even when he doesn’t need to use it for walking. “Go ahead, get on the road. If you leave now we should both get back to my place around the same time.” 

Billy nods and gives him one last sad look before getting back into the car, behind the wheel this time. 

Freddy rises up higher into the sky, higher, a hot wind tossing through his curls. He watches as his car reenters the highway and bears Billy back toward the city, its headlights cutting through the dark. Once he’s high enough, he scans the distant landscape for Grayson Manor and sees it only as a black smudge in the distance, surrounded by trees. Dick doesn’t illuminate the Manor at night for security reasons, so the only light from the property is a tiny glow from a lamp Billy must have left on in his guesthouse. 

The thought of Billy sleeping there and Dick sneaking in to steal his blood for god knows what reason brings a snarl to Freddy’s face. Still snarling, he turns in midair and races toward his meeting with Clark, feeling ready for anything but also wanting to get past it already, and back to Billy.

 

 

**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew sorry for the wait between updates! I was out of town for a bit and also this chapter is LONG lol, this will definitely be the longest chapter in the story. At several points I considered splitting it into two, but I ultimately felt like it all needed to flow together this way, and I'll be curious to hear what people think about the experience of reading it. 
> 
> Thanks again to all who have commented and encouraged me, I'm ramping up for the super dramatic parts of the story now-- even more dramatic than this one~!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **

Even after Billy’s summer class started, the days and weeks that followed his eighteenth birthday were the best of both their lives. Freddy had no doubt about it then or afterward, even in light of what happened next: Billy was happier than he’d ever been before, too. Freddy felt it when they looked at each other, whether it was across the breakfast table or in bed, still breathless from sex and in awe of how it seemed to get better every time, or even when they were going over Chem II notes, shoulders pressed together on the sofa downstairs. 

Freddy could see it every time their eyes met, regardless of the circumstances. Billy felt just as suddenly invincible as Freddy did, in a way that even their super forms couldn’t touch. 

Sometimes they were both a little frightened of how happy and secure they felt, because it was new, even within that house where they’d known those feelings for the first time in other ways. The intensity of their secret closeness felt like too much to hold onto, even with both hands and super strength, and Freddy never got nostalgic enough in the years that followed to not also remember that his hands would shake sometimes just for the fear that it was too good to last forever.

Which isn’t to say he didn’t let himself enjoy it while he had it, because oh, god, he did.

It was an especially hot, humid summer, and the air conditioning at the house was having expensive issues. Freddy felt like his t-shirts were always stuck to him in varying degrees of dampness. This didn’t bother him in the slightest, because the same was true for Billy’s shirts, and Freddy would catch himself staring and licking his lips, the oppressive heat they were always wandering through providing an excuse for the flush on his cheeks if he dragged his eyes up to meet Billy’s and saw he’d been caught. 

Not that Billy minded being admired, by him or anyone. Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet were out on the town quite a bit together in those months between Billy’s birthday and the murder of Batman, and they were increasingly popular in a way that worried Freddy a little even before the shit hit the fan for superheroes in general. 

Billy took the increased attention of his admiring public in stride and not-so-secretly loved it, doing real hero work on a nightly basis but also posing for pictures after he had, including, once, a picture where he chugged a beer that someone in a cheering crowd had handed him after he and Freddy stopped a wannabe supervillain from unleashing bio-weaponized insects into the arena where the crowd had gathered for a concert. The beer chugging picture became a meme, and Freddy groaned every time he saw it online but also sort of loved it, mostly because the of dumb, adorable grin that split across Billy’s face every time he found a new text-based joke slapped across the image of him smirking around the mouth of a beer bottle with his head-thrown back while he gulped from it. He was winking, too, which made the image all the more ridiculous, hilarious, also weirdly hot. He’d been winking at Freddy, who was giving him a ‘really?’ look from off camera, because what kind of role model chugged beer after saving the day?

But people in Philly loved it, loved him. They loved Cyclone’s hammy charisma and Bullet’s earnest do-gooder dorkiness, and especially loved it when they were together, because the rumors that they were boyfriends, or fuckbuddies, or maybe just secretly, mutually in love with each other persisted, and everyone loved a superhero romance. Freddy died a little inside thinking that their siblings must have read these rumors. He assured Billy that they would all just laugh it off and consider it lurid sensationalist reporting based on nothing, and in the meantime didn’t dare to bring it up with Darla at home or with Mary when they chatted online. Billy had stopped kissing him when they were in costume, even when they seemed to be alone together, and Freddy missed it but understood. Better to be discreet. He wondered more than once if there was 2D fan art of him and Billy fucking out there somewhere, the kind of stuff Freddy had jerked off to himself when he was a superhero fanboy, but he didn’t go looking for it.

Though he did sort of wonder which one of them people drew on top, if such things did exist. 

Because he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anybody love anything as much as Billy loved being on top of Freddy only in the sense that he would be straddling Freddy on his knees while going fucking crazy for the feeling of Freddy inside him. Even a few weeks after they’d first tried it, they still hadn’t flipped their positions. Freddy didn’t mind, though he was curious to have Billy in him, wanted to know what it felt like. He also wanted to save it, though, to have one last first together still ahead and looked forward to, and he thought maybe they could do it for the first time at Billy’s new place, after Freddy had moved into the dorms at Penn State on at least a technical basis. He was worried about how raw and strange it would feel to even nominally not share a bedroom anymore, and thought maybe Billy being inside him for the first time, after they had settled their belongings in two different rooms, would soothe the awkwardness of the whole thing. 

Plus, Freddy would let himself be loud, not caring if Billy’s next door neighbors heard him moaning for his boyfriend’s big dick through the thin walls of whatever unglamorous apartment Billy would end up in. Just thinking about it made Freddy grin moonily at moments, and eased his tension about moving out and moving on with Billy alongside him but not wrapped entirely around him at all times, octopus-like. 

In the meantime, they were more inseparable than ever, which was a neat trick considering that even before that summer they had already spent as little time apart as possible. Billy still took shifts at the hardware store, but he was too invested in making a real difference as Red Cyclone to even care much about saving money at that point. It made Freddy nervous to see him pulling even further away from the non-hero world, though he understood the motivation to do so and couldn’t argue with Billy’s reasons without feeling like a heartless nag who obsessed over being an upstanding citizen when he could be out there saving them instead. 

Billy was even less invested in the Chem II class than he was in earning money, though he grudgingly allowed Freddy to help him study. It was during one of these study sessions that Freddy first heard about Billy being contacted by Robin, who had reached out to ask Billy about possibly meeting up with Batman. 

Even at the time, Freddy thought, without knowing why: oh no. It was like he’d caught a faint whiff of smoke on the air, some otherworldly hint that what wasn’t yet on fire was already burning down. 

They were studying in Freddy’s bed, which was dangerous in the sense that it usually resulted in Billy pushing his hand up under Freddy’s shirt to distract him, rule number one having recently become more of a guideline that they followed in the strictest sense but also something they used to drive each other crazy during the day, teasing here and there at their rule’s boundaries. Freddy had noticed Billy was being very good today, not touching him, and now he knew why. He’d been waiting to drop this bomb.

“Batman, like-- Meeting Batman? Us?” Freddy asked, eyes huge. The prospect was so different now that they were adults themselves, if just. This wouldn’t be a charitable bone tossed to an adoring fanboy, which was what Freddy’s brief, stammering meeting with Superman had felt like. Batman was appealing to them as fellow heroes, asking for help with a case. 

“Yes, Freddy.” Billy was grinning, looking relieved that Freddy was fixating on that bit of the news and not the other part, namely Robin being involved.

“When did Robin mention this, exactly?”

“Just last night,” Billy said. “I was waiting to tell you, didn’t want to get into it earlier--”

“Why does Robin only seem to run into you on the nights when I’m not there?” Freddy asked, suspicious already. The night before had been the first one in a long time when Freddy stayed in rather than patrolling, hoping that if he did Billy wouldn’t stay out long, as he had a Chem II test coming up and they were supposed to study for it last night, too. 

“What does it matter?” Billy asked, sitting up onto his elbow. “Freddy, this is, like, serious shit. _Batman_ wants us to help with an investigation. Us!”

“He really invited me along, too?”

“Yeah, of course! It’s about, you know. Sivana.” Billy still didn’t even like to say the name, and swallowed audibly after he had. “And you were alone with him, same as me. He wants to interview us about the details, to see if maybe we can help with some clue. He’s looking for Sivana, maybe getting close to finding him.”

Freddy pushed the Chem II book away, because for once Billy was right: fuck studying chemical formulas that neither of them would ever use after school ended. This _was_ some real shit, if Robin wasn’t just pulling an immature prank on Billy. 

“Robin said they’re close to finding Sivana?” Freddy said. He felt his eyes get huge again, and wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear in response to this.

“He didn’t say that exactly,” Billy admitted. “You know how he is.”

“I do not, I’ve only met him once.” 

It hadn’t gone especially well. Freddy had gotten the impression Robin was courting Cyclone as a friend and ally, but less interested in Bullet, and that the only reason for this was that he wanted Billy’s friendship for himself and saw Cyclone’s regular companion and co-hero as an obstacle. Freddy couldn’t put into words exactly what Robin had done or said to make him feel this way. It was just a hunch.

“Obviously I’m gonna say yes to the meetup,” Billy said, sitting up on his elbow and rolling toward Freddy. It was pre-dinnertime, and Billy’s legs were resting against Freddy’s in a way that came near to violating rule one. “Hello?” Billy said, tapping Freddy on the chin. “You’re not freaking out about this, like, excited? I thought you’d be pumped.” 

“No, I am.” Freddy had a lot on his mind, including the proximity of Billy and how much he wished they could do something to each other right then, craving the comfort of it. “It’s just crazy to think about Sivana coming back into our lives even a little, is all.” 

“I know. But it’s always bugged me. More than I talk about, even. That he’s still out there somewhere. Like he’s waiting for something. I don’t know.” 

“Maybe he’s dead,” Freddy said, wishing it to be true. “He probably conjured one of those doors, went through it, and got eaten by alligator people or something. Or evaporated into an all-consuming dark mist. There were tons of dangerous options, and he was desperate. So he hopped through a door and got swallowed up in a poisonous cosmic swamp, goodbye forever.” 

This was their favorite theory, but it didn’t explain how Sivana would have been able to conjure a door with no powers or access to his lab’s tech, and hoping this was the case did nothing to alleviate their mutual, dreadful suspicion that getting rid of him was never going to be that easy. They were both a little ashamed of the fact that they still didn’t know how their own powers and all related magic worked, exactly. No one was around to explain it to them, so they were always trying to work backward from what they knew and come up with theories of their own. Freddy had exhaustively searched for any academic material that seemed related to the wizard, their lair, the seven thrones, or the staff that Billy broke years ago. It was impossible to know if he had come across something relevant or if he was just trying to make what he had found relevant, in most cases. He was planning to work harder at this during college, once he had access to new research materials. 

“You’re so quiet,” Billy said, stroking his arm. “You’re worried about this? About meeting Batman, or trying to find Sivana, or what?”

“I mean, those are both pretty anxiety-making subjects, yeah. But I’m okay, just thinking. When does Batman want to meet up?”

“Robin said he’d get back to me. He was just making sure we’re interested in talking to him about this. I was like, are you kidding! Of course!”

“Of course,” Freddy echoed, nodding. He wasn’t sure why a pit of dread had formed in his stomach, expanding outward. He rolled into Billy’s arms and gave him a hug, feeling weird.

“Careful,” Billy said. He turned to look at their closed bedroom door, listening for footsteps. When none could be heard, he bent over Freddy and kissed him twice on the ear. “Don’t get me going,” he whispered, which was itself like a dare, because he knew exactly how Freddy was affected by Billy whispering things in his ear like that, close enough that his lips brushed against the rim.  

“Who’s getting who going,” Freddy asked, squirming closer. 

Billy moaned and pulled free. He rolled all the way out of the bed and stood, adjusting his pants. 

“God,” he said, jumping in place a few times, as if doing so would kill his developing boner. “You’re gonna be in trouble when I have my own place.”

“In trouble?” Freddy said, rolling onto his back. “Or getting you into it?”

“Okay, both. You know what I was thinking about?”

“What?” Freddy was already beaming, because he knew it was something about their future together, everything that was coming soon. 

“In winter, just. How good it will be, because whatever apartment I rent is gonna be just as if not more drafty than this house, but, man. We don’t have to sleep in separate beds and shiver under blankets by ourselves. We’ll have that sweet, sweet body heat.”

“Boys?” Rosa said, suddenly outside the door. 

Billy went still and white-faced. Freddy waved a hand in his direction, reassuring him she hadn’t heard. She wasn’t the eavesdropping type, and had clearly just walked up.

“Yeah?” Freddy called back.

“Is somebody-- Jumping, in there?”

“Billy is, the weirdo!” Freddy said. “Not me. I have a rock solid alibi. You can come in, by the way.” 

She opened the door to poke her head inside and give them both a friendly, curious look. Billy forced a smile, looking panicked. 

“Better head for Darla’s practice,” Rosa said. “It’s rush hour, gonna take a while to get there.”

“Yep!” Freddy flung himself out of bed, glad to have the excuse to be alone with Billy in the van. They didn’t really need to do this errand together, but everyone accepted that of course they would, because why would they voluntarily be apart? “Let’s go,” Freddy said, tapping Billy’s arm to get him out of horrified-frozen mode. “Darla’s waiting.”

Freddy drove, and Billy was silent in the passenger seat, obviously fretting about having been what he would characterize as ‘sloppy,’ back at the house. Freddy knew Billy was beating himself up internally for daring to kiss Freddy’s ear while their family was awake, also for having the nerve to tell Freddy that he was already daydreaming about how they would keep each other warm in bed at night during the coming winter. It made Freddy’s heart literally, physically ache, that Billy was sitting over there thinking of his inherent sweetness and love for Freddy as something he should feel ashamed of, because he still thought of it as some kind of warped betrayal of the way that Rosa and Victor viewed him as an innocent. Billy couldn’t see himself that way, no matter how Freddy tried to convince him that there was nothing wrong or bad about what they were doing, and that Rosa and Victor would never see this the way he so feared they would.

“So, question,” Freddy said, not wanting to get into a fight about this other thing either, but preferring that to Billy silently hating himself for being affectionate in the light of day. 

“Hmm?” Billy said, only half-looking at him. 

“You said Batman wants to talk to ‘us.’ ‘Cause we were both alone with Sivana at one point. How does he know that Bullet interacted with Sivana outside of the group fight? ‘Cause, uhhh. He didn’t, actually. That was just me, before I had any powers.” 

“Oh, um. I guess I just mentioned that Bullet would have useful info, too, when Dick asked me about talking to Batman. I didn’t say why, exactly.”

“Yeah, but if I do tell him what I know, if I describe what happened in any useful capacity, I’ll have to tell him I was a helpless kid when I went through it, which means giving away my identity, basically. And yours, in the process.” 

“No, what? Not necessarily.” 

“Does Robin know how you got your powers?”

“Ehh, sorta. We’ve talked about it, um. In general terms. I didn’t tell him about the lair, but I told him about the wizard, and the sins, and about how Sivana had wanted the powers as a kid and failed--”

“Billy,” Freddy said, hands tightening on the wheel.

“What? Freddy, Robin and Batman want to work with us to find Sivana and lock him up again! And I’m supposed to, what? Tell him to get lost because it might compromise our identities? Robin is a hero! If we can’t trust a hero as established as him, who can we ever trust? And nobody’s more protective of secret identities than him, believe me. He works with freakin’ Batman. There’s no identity more secret than his, right?”

Freddy just grunted, having a hard time putting his finger on what was bothering him and not wanting to conclude that it was jealousy. Because of course Robin hadn’t asked to talk to Bullet, too. Billy had just volunteered that he could, so that Freddy would feel included, and while his intentions were good, this was actual sloppiness. 

Darla was ready to go when they got there, and her good mood lightened things between them at once. All three of them loved these drives, for different but related reasons. Freddy loved the feeling of helping to take care of the family in whatever way he could, and liked seeing how angst-free Billy was around Darla, who adored him and Freddy so much that they both felt blameless in her presence, as if they had never and could never do anything wrong, not really. 

So it was kind of a gut punch when she chose that day to ask, while they were waiting at a red light:

“Why does HNN say that Red Cyclone and Blue Bullet are boyfriends?”

She was looking at her phone, where she had pulled up the _Hero Notes and News_ site that they all perused regularly, often as a item of special agenda on these van trips, since in addition to being heroes themselves they were all superhero dweebs who loved talking about the latest gossip, particularly Darla and Freddy. 

“You know sometimes they just make up stories about heroes based on nothing,” Freddy said, shrugging one shoulder and giving her his best casual glance. Billy had gone silent and stone-faced beside him, which wasn’t helping. “They just see two super handsome guys together and they want to think they must be in love, you know, for a good gossip story. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Darla smiled strangely. “Okay.” 

Freddy almost asked her, what is this look you’re giving me, exactly? Because it was a little too much like the one she gave him at the dinner table when doing a too-obvious wink-wink acknowledgement of their Shazam secret in the presence of Rosa and Victor. 

Not wanting to bring on a full meltdown from Billy, Freddy let the subject drop instead of pressing Darla. She seemed content with his answer, anyway, smiling out the window now, phone hugged to her chest. 

At home, Billy did the thing he always did when something made him jumpy about maybe being discovered standing too close or looking too long at Freddy: he avoided Freddy until dinnertime, taking a ridiculously long shower and then spending even longer in the bathroom shaving, or maybe just pouting and feeling sorry for himself. Freddy wasn’t in the mood to indulge this drama and ignored it as best he could, aside from a couple of pointed looks at Billy during dinner, when he could feel Billy sneaking sad-eyed glances at him. Freddy could smell the shaving cream scent still lingering on Billy from across the table, and he was extra annoyed by the fact that it was arousing him despite his current done-ness with Billy seeing problems where there were none.

“So that was mortifying,” Billy said later, when the house was quiet and Freddy was making Billy wait for the usual invitation to his bed, already checking the digital clock on their desk more than once per minute, because he’d told himself he would wait another five. 

“Mortifying,” Freddy said. “Hmm. I’m running over the events of the day and coming up with nothing.”

“Oh, god, come on. You know what I mean. Darla, asking-- Thank fuck Rosa and Victor don’t know it’s us. Do you think Mary reads that site?” 

“Probably not, she’s pretty set on being a helpful cipher as her super-self, and she doesn’t care about the gossip stuff.”

“That should be her super name,” Billy said, muttering. “Ciphergirl.” 

“Come here,” Freddy said, though the five minutes hadn’t passed yet. He was willing to reward Billy just for changing the subject, sorta.

Billy moaned in a way that told Freddy this would be one of those nights when he wanted to be held before they did anything else. Freddy complied gladly when Billy climbed down and slumped onto him, his cheek pressed over Freddy’s heartbeat and his knees pulled up across Freddy’s hips. Freddy curved his legs in behind Billy’s, curling toward him so they were properly twisted up together, arms around each other. 

This moan-and-cling approach was one of three responses Billy had to Freddy’s whispered instruction to _come here_. It was either this, wild need that made Freddy feel like he could barely keep up with Billy’s desperation to get him out of his clothes, or a kind of tense sweetness that lingered somewhere between the two, when Billy needed something but couldn’t decide if it was lazy affection or the kind of unhinged animal hunger he knew Freddy was always down for. Those were Freddy’s favorite nights, when they slipped between the two modes and went crazy on each other but also took time to just float together in dopey amazement, never wanting a cure for how lovesick they were.

“Okay, no, don’t get me going yet,” Billy said, lips soft and warm on Freddy’s throat. 

“I’m not,” Freddy said, though perhaps he had moved his hips in a suggestive way.

“We have to do a patrol first,” Billy said, pulling up onto his elbows to look Freddy in the face. “Right? I mean, I know where Robin hangs out. We can tell him we’re in, both of us. And you can, like. Hang out with him, I mean. You should.”

“I should?” Freddy’s eyebrows shot up. He’d gotten spoiled on Billy’s willingness to follow his lead, and it always felt a little bit like a threat that all of this could crumble around him when Billy tried to take charge, at least when it came to things that happened outside of bed.

“Yeah.” Billy frowned like he was annoyed by Freddy’s protest. Which was also kinda new, in a not-great way. “What, you don’t want to go out?”

“No, I-- I do, of course I do. But. It’s just. You have that test tomorrow.”

“Oh, god.” Billy rolled his eyes and pulled free from Freddy’s arms, sitting up. “I’ll do fine on the test. I’ll get up and cram right beforehand, tomorrow morning. That’s the best way to do it when you’re just memorizing bullshit like those formulas.”

Freddy wanted to remind Billy that he didn’t really know what he was talking about when it came to the best ways to study, but he was afraid this could turn into a fight and was feeling too suddenly insecure to endure even a minor one. He shrugged instead, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said, fake casual. “Let’s go meet Robin. Sure.”

They crept out the window in their usual way. Freddy felt newly awkward and had to remind himself that Robin still didn’t know he was Freddy Freeman, user of a crutch and barely able to crawl across a roof. As far as Robin and Batman knew, he was just Blue Bullet. That was all that mattered. 

Except for the fact that Billy had offered him up as a holder of information that only Freddy Freeman had.

He forced the thought away and cursed under his breath when he messed up the dismount on the patio and had to be more literally caught by Billy than he liked. 

“Jesus,” Billy said when Freddy shouldered him away as soon as he was steady. “What was that for?”

“Shhh!” Freddy said. “Sorry, just. No, I’m fine. Just nervous.”

“Freddy--”

“Shh, c’mon, hurry up.”

They booked it to their nearest transformation spot without speaking, and Freddy felt breathless with relief when he was Blue Bullet at last, shooting up into the air with Billy doing the same. They were face to face but not touching. 

“So where does this weirdo hang out?” Freddy asked, and he felt newly floaty when Billy grinned. 

“Follow me,” Billy said, blasting off. 

Freddy followed him for what felt like a long time, until they came to a quarry that Freddy was pretty but not entirely sure was still in Pennsylvania. It bothered him that Robin was hanging out in or at least near to their home state, but he couldn’t say why, except that Robin seemed a little too determined to draw Billy into his circle of influence, though he didn’t even know him as a Billy yet. Robin called him Cyclone when they slapped their hands together in greeting, then turned a less enthusiastic but still annoyingly friendly smile on Freddy, approaching with his hand outstretched. 

“Bullet,” Robin said, slapping Freddy’s hand in the same fashion. “Good to see you. Thanks for coming.”

“Glad to help Batman,” Freddy said, craning his neck to see if he was lurking in the shadows of the innermost cavern of the quarry, where a man-made waterfall pounded into the lagoon nearby, camouflaging their conversation from any potential eavesdroppers. 

“He’s not here.” Robin smirked from behind his mask, and it was almost mocking but not quite, which felt worse than being mocked outright. “But he’s very interested in what you two have to tell him about the mad doctor.” 

“When does he want to take our statements?” Billy asked. 

“Mhm, all in good time, my friends. See, the Bat doesn’t trust many people. Even heroes, to be frank. He keeps a low profile, works alone. Except for me, of course. But maybe you two get what that’s like. I don’t see you teaming up with others too much. Just each other.” 

Robin grinned. His eyes behind that stupid mask were sharp and dark, exacting. He seemed protected whereas they were exposed, mask-less. 

“Matching outfits and everything,” Robin said when neither of them knew how to respond to his teasing about the obvious, the rumors. Of course he’d read them, too. 

“Our origin stories are intertwined,” Billy said, voice tight, like he was warning Robin off this line of questioning.

“Dude,” Freddy muttered, not even wanting Robin to know that much.

“What?” Billy looked at him and shrugged, then grinned at Robin in a familiar way that Freddy didn’t like. “It’s obvious, I should think.”

“Uh, yeah.” Robin laughed and gestured at the lightning bolts on their chests. “I’ve noticed you don’t use the lightning,” Robin said to Freddy, gesturing as if to shoot lightning from his palm the way Billy did. “Is that by choice, or--?”

“Our powers aren’t identical, just related,” Freddy said, starting to hate him a little. It was that smirk, or the way Robin looked at them, like he was holding court and they were lucky to be his audience-- Freddy more so than Billy, seemed like. 

“Anyway,” Billy said, “We’re available whenever Batman needs us. I’m planning to be out on patrol in Philly every night from now on.” 

“Really joining the fold now, huh?” Robin said, still smirking. “About time.” 

“You don’t know our reasons for waiting,” Freddy snapped, before he could stop himself. “There’s a lot about our powers that you don’t understand.” 

“Well, sure.” Robin vaulted off the rock he’d been sitting on and landed with unnecessary, cat-like grace in front of them, as if he might lift off the ground and show them he could fly, too. “What do I know about powers?” he asked when he straightened up, arms crossed over his skinny chest. He had the same build as Freddy, more or less, but was shorter. “I get by on my measly mortal abilities.” He smiled to let them know he was only kidding, and turned to Billy as if the smile was mostly for him. 

“You do fine,” Billy said, and Freddy wanted to snarl at him, though he wasn’t sure if Billy was placating Robin or telling him to shut up.

They left without any indication about when Batman would meet up with them, and Freddy was in a bad mood after having instead listened to Billy and Robin shoot the shit for almost an hour about various mutual super acquaintances. It was mostly Robin bragging about who he knew and what feats he’d accomplished alongside them, and Billy acting impressed in a way that made Freddy grind his teeth in silence. 

He couldn’t stand feeling like shit while he was also flying through the air, Billy at his side. Somewhere between the quarry and home he came up short and hovered over a dark, forested area that looked like it might be part of a state park, nothing but empty trails down below.

“What are you doing?” Billy called back when he noticed Freddy had stopped there. Billy turned course and flew over to him, straightening in mid-air to mimic Freddy’s posture. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for him. 

Freddy surged backward before Billy could touch his hip. He grinned, had an idea. 

“Follow me,” he said, flying down toward the forest below. 

They didn’t do things like this enough, Freddy suddenly realized. He swooped down below the tree line and settled on the thickest branch of an enormous old oak, its leaves rustling overhead in the calm summer wind. Billy landed beside him, his weight making the branch tremble a little as he sat down beside Freddy. Billy’s brow was pinched with confusion, but he was smiling, too, intrigued.

“Uhh, what’s this?” Billy asked. “We’re sitting in a tree?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” Billy laughed and leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Freddy grinned and pressed into it, scooting closer. There was no one around for miles, so far as they knew. It felt good to kiss while in costume again, and to hear Billy moan with approval when Freddy pressed his palm against the lightning bolt on Billy’s costume, drawing the charge of power out with his hand as if he was lighting Billy up on the inside, too. 

“It just occurred to me, tonight,” Freddy said when he pulled back, breathless, “Everything’s about to get real for us in a whole new way, when we’re wearing these costumes. We’re part of the larger picture now. It’s all about to get so serious.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, and his eyes lit up like he couldn’t wait. “It’s amazing.” 

“Um, yep. I know. But before that happens, I just wanted to do something fun, like. To stay lighthearted for as long as we can. You know?”

“Sure, uh. Is that why we’re sitting in a tree?”

“Mhm-hmm. But the tree is just part of it.”

Freddy swung his leg over the branch so he was straddling it, then scooted close enough to wrap both his legs around Billy’s waist. Billy’s eyebrows went up.

“Dude,” he said, craning his neck to peer into the darkness below them. “There could be, like, campers down there.” 

Even as he said so, he was wrapping both arms around Freddy and tugged him closer. Freddy grabbed Billy’s face with both hands and kissed him, not caring about campers, though he didn’t think there were any. He’d scanned the area on the way down. But even if someone saw them, he didn’t want to stop. He wouldn’t mind a picture of him kissing Billy like this showing up on one of those gossip sites, confirming everything and showing anyone who may be reading, such as Robin, that it was all true, that Billy belonged so completely to Freddy that they made out in trees sometimes, just for the hell of it.

“What’s the point of this?” Billy asked, laughing against Freddy’s lips and squeezing the muscles in his arms, something Freddy fucking loved when he looked like this, less so when Billy squeezed his skinny arms in his de-powered body. Though that was good, too. 

“The point?” Freddy snorted and licked at Billy’s bottom lip, teasing him into trying for a harder kiss and pulling back when he did. “Uhh, just, for fun, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s fun to make out in trees, but, like. You’re making me hard in this costume, so. Are we going to transform and jerk each other off up here? Or-- What’s the plan?”

Freddy swooned in and gave him the hard kiss he’d been seeking. He loved it so much when Billy asked him what the plan was, when he sat there with that pleading look and awaited his instructions. 

“Careful,” Billy whispered when Freddy let his hand wander down to feel for Billy’s costume-covered bulge. Billy shifted away from his touch. He always seemed nervous that if they dared anything sex-related while powered up they’d be punished by losing their powers forever, or something. 

“Okay, okay,” Freddy said, dragging his hand back upward, over Billy’s belt. “We can transform and finish each other off, or wait till we get home. But before that, um. Would you use it on me?” He whispered this part, touching his fingertips to the bolt on Billy’s chest. “Just a little?”

“The-- What?” Billy laughed and looked mildly shocked, which surprised Freddy, who’d assumed he had thought about this, too. “The lightning? No!”

“Why not? I’m powered up, it won’t hurt me. And you can control the strength--”

“Freddy, are you crazy? We don’t know it wouldn’t hurt you!” 

“Billy, I’ve been thrown through concrete walls by supervillains. My damage immunity is just as good as yours!”

“Damage, yeah! I don’t want to do damage to you, jesus!”

“It wouldn’t be-- Look, you’re misunderstanding.” Freddy laughed nervously, afraid now that he was being weird. It was rare that he suggested they try something new and Billy shied away from it. “I don’t want you to hurt me. I think it would feel good, like. Like this does.” He stroked his fingertips over Billy’s lightning bolt again, sighing happily for the sensation. It was a flicker of feeling that was soft and intense all at once, like an electrified fizz, making his skin feel extra sensitive and warm. Freddy’s lightning bolt glowed, but it didn’t have this sparking lightning-crackle that reached out to meet his fingertips like Billy’s did. None of their siblings’ costume had this feature. Eugene was the only one of them who could throw the lightning from his hands like Billy, but even his costume’s lightning bolt didn’t spark with power the same way Billy’s did.

“Fuck, it feels good to me, too,” Billy said, breathing this out. “But, just. Not in a sex way, I don’t know. I don’t want to mix sex up with this.” 

“Sex isn’t evil,” Freddy said, giving him a look. 

“Yeah, no shit. But, it’s. Selfish, I don’t know. It’s just for us, and, like. In these bodies, we serve the world, you know?” 

“Oh, god.” Now Freddy felt both guilty and weird, fidgeting in place. He unwound his legs from Billy’s waist and let them hang down around the tree branch. “Sure, okay. Says the guy who chugged a beer in costume, for a meme.” 

“It wasn’t-- I didn’t know the picture would get famous!”

“You so did. Or hoped it would.”

“No, I didn’t! Freddy, look.” Billy lifted his hands and shook his head. “It wouldn’t work, anyway. I’m too scared I’d hurt you. It wouldn’t even be able to get a spark out if I thought there was a chance it might go wrong.” 

“Huh,” Freddy said, thinking of the night he asked Billy to fuck him. “Okay, well. It was worth a try.” 

He started to float upward, but Billy pulled him back down, then close enough that Freddy had to slide his leg across Billy’s lap. Their noses touched, and Billy swept his fingers through Freddy’s hair. 

“It’s always shorter than your real hair,” Billy said, voice soft. “When you’re like this, I mean. Why?”

“I don’t fucking know.” Freddy laughed, feeling some of his embarrassment and anxiety lift away. “I wish like hell we had all the rules, man. And if we ever do figure out how to take these costumes off and still have our powers? I’m never going back.”

“Never-- What?”

“Never going back to not having powers! I could keep them hidden while I go about my day to day business, but I’d always have them on hand. The ability to fucking walk, for one.” 

“Oh.” Billy looked down at their laps and sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know. I like your real hair better, though. When your curls are longer.”

“I’m sure I could grow this style out if I kept this form long enough,” Freddy said, though of course he wasn’t sure about that, or anything to do with their powers. He’d considered that using them all the time might drain them in some way, like maybe they needed the break in their non-powered bodies. He didn’t like the idea, didn’t want to need his other body at all.

“I’d miss the other you,” Billy said, pulling his gaze back up to meet Freddy’s. “The real you.”

“This is the real me! Both are, I guess.”

“Yeah. I know. I mean, believe me. This feels more like me than anything, being Cyclone, being able to fly. Although, uh. Sometimes I think I just want it to. Because the other me is just-- Because I need other people so much, when I don’t have the powers. And when I’m like this I only need you.” 

Freddy pulled him close and kissed him, partly because he couldn’t stop himself, because Billy was so perfect when he had both the sad eyes and the costume on, but mostly because he didn’t know what to say. His heart was beating fast, and suddenly he badly wanted to be home, in their bed. Freddy didn’t even think of the bottom bunk as his own bed anymore. It was theirs, the little divot in the universe they’d carved out for each other, where they were safest and happiest and alone together at last. It was like a little row boat they pushed out to sea together every night, where they spent hours floating together under the moonlight, far from shore, until they had to go back.

“Let’s go home,” Freddy said when they’d been kissing long enough that they were both getting hard, which Freddy had to agree felt kind of weird when they were wearing their costumes. 

“Mhm-hmm,” Billy said, nodding. “I’ve had enough of this tree. No offense.”

“I’m not offended,” Freddy said. “Unless you were talking to the tree?”

Billy laughed. “No, I was talking to you. Since this was your bright idea.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just wait till you see where I want to make out with you next.” 

“Oh boy. I hope it’s the bed.”

“Well, yeah, in a literal sense. Let’s go.”

They flew home, transformed in the spot where Freddy had left his cane, and made it back in via the window. Freddy continued to be amazed that they’d never been caught, and sometimes wondered if Rosa and Victor hadn’t heard them sneaking out once or twice and wrote it off as normal teenage behavior, at least since they’d both turned eighteen and could technically do what they pleased. He liked the idea that if Rosa or Victor spotted them making their way out at night they would assume everything was okay, because as long as Freddy and Billy were together they would take care of each other and stay safe.

Back in their room, in their bed, Billy knelt up over Freddy and peeled Freddy’s shirt off, then stripped him of his pants and boxers with a kind of quiet determination that was unusual for him. He seemed to want to make a point, and spent a long time kissing Freddy from his neck all the way down to his thighs. Freddy didn’t flinch until Billy made it down to his bad knee.

“You don’t have to do that,” Freddy said, very hard by then but also annoyed, his leg twitching in Billy’s grip. “Like, c’mon. I know you’re attracted to me, you don’t have to make a show of--”

“I don’t want you to ditch this body, even if we figure out how to take off the costumes,” Billy said, giving Freddy a look that shut him up. “I mean, you can, if you want. It’s your body. But the idea makes me sad, I guess. ‘Cause this body, right here?” He squeezed Freddy’s knee, gentle. “This is my favorite one, ‘cause it’s the first one I, um. Had. And kissed, and held. And got held by. Think of everything we’ve done like this, Freddy. It makes us fucking sacred, right? Like, same as the bed. Please don’t disappear into Bullet. And I won’t, into Cyclone. I like us better like this, actually. Secretly. Though I guess it’s not a secret anymore, from you.”

“Come here, weirdo,” Freddy said, holding his arms out and disliking how thick his voice suddenly sounded. “You’re too far away, that’s all.”

Billy grinned and shucked his shirt, then everything else, and stretched out naked on top of Freddy, tugging the blankets up over them even though it was way too hot for that. Billy craved the feeling of being at least a little covered up when they were undressed like this, though he didn’t glance nervously at the door as much as he used to, seeming to trust that Rosa and Victor weren’t going to burst in on them in the middle of the night. Darla had stopped doing it even during the day, which was another reason Freddy thought she might know or at least suspect something, but he wouldn’t let himself start thinking about that. He opened his mouth for Billy’s kisses and thought only about wrapping his legs around the small of Billy’s back, dragging his cock against Billy’s hard stomach, and stifling his laughter that wasn’t directed at anything in particular, just an extension of the still-ballooning joy that he couldn’t hold in when they were pressed together like this, safely restored to their little row boat world. 

In the morning, Freddy woke up at six and dragged himself upright in bed, yawning and scratching at his chest, where a flaky little bit of either his come or Billy’s had dried between his pecs. He snorted and reached up to knock on the bottom of Billy’s bed, which was a kind of inside joke of theirs, also a way to make Billy respond to the alarm. 

“Hey, time to cram,” Freddy said, yawning again before he could finish speaking. 

“Nuh,” Billy said, still mostly asleep.

“Yuh, actually, c’mon.” 

Freddy got dressed and tossed some clothes onto Billy, who eventually pulled himself upright, moaning a lot and giving Freddy looks like he was mildly evil for dumping the Chem II notes and book into Billy’s lap while he sat there still half-asleep. Freddy vaulted up into Billy’s bed, a rare occasion but sometimes in order, such as now. 

“Okay,” Freddy said, rolling onto his stomach and flipping through the book. “The test is on chapters seven through ten, right?”

“Like you don’t know,” Billy said, running his hand up under Freddy’s t-shirt. “Mmph.” He slumped over to put his face against Freddy’s back, his hand sliding onto Freddy’s side in a way that made him shiver. “You smell like sex, by the way.” 

“No,” Freddy said, reaching back to swat at him. “Hey, concentrate.”

“How am I supposed to do that,” Billy asked, pushing Freddy’s shirt up to mouth at the skin on his back, “When you smell like the guy who fucked me five hours ago? God, I can still smell you on me, too. Freddy, nnh. I want you. Let me blow you, please. It’ll help me concentrate.” 

“You’re a maniac,” Freddy said, hiding his grin in the pages of Billy’s textbook. “Noo, shh. Rosa will be up in half an hour, you know she wakes up early.”

“I can suck you off in less than five minutes,” Billy said, whispering. “This is a proven fact.”

Freddy’s eyebrows went up. If the mention of Rosa waking up soon wasn’t enough to pull Billy off this idea, probably nothing but Freddy’s outright refusal would do it, and he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to this just yet, his cock starting to fill out against the mattress while Billy flicked his tongue over his skin, teasing him with how good those same tongue-flicks would feel against his dick. It was still somewhat dark outside, and rule one technically could be followed as long as no one else was either awake or in the house. The house was silent, everyone still sleeping. 

“Please,” Billy said, and he licked up along the length of Freddy’s spine, reaching under his shirt to knead his shoulders in the way he knew Freddy loved, pulling out all the stops. “I know you washed up, last night, I was still awake when you came back from the bathroom. So don’t try to use that excuse.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to try to suck my unwashed dick right now,” Freddy said, bucking a little when Billy straddled him from behind. “Considering you’re doing it to avoid studying.”

Billy snickered against the back of Freddy’s neck, and that was what did it: Freddy was fully hard against the bed, sighing with his cheek pressed to Billy’s neglected textbook. 

“I’m not returning the favor,” Freddy whispered when Billy rolled him onto his back. “Just so you know.”

“I don’t care,” Billy said, smirking down at him, triumphant. “I’ll stroke myself off while I blow you. Unless you change your mind. ‘Cause--” He leaned in to whisper in Freddy’s ear: “I know how much you _love_ sucking my dick.”

“Fuck you,” Freddy whispered against Billy’s lips when he brought his smirk down against Freddy’s mouth. Freddy wasn’t really protesting this charge: it was true, and he didn’t care if Billy knew it. He just couldn’t believe he was letting Billy do this, how weak they both still were for it, all these months later, and also how much he fucking loved that they were, if he was honest with himself. 

“Yeah, fuck me,” Billy said, pinning Freddy’s hands over his head. “Fuck my mouth, be my guest.”

Freddy writhed in his grip and whined a little, nowhere near wishing Billy wasn’t so good at this, even if it did mean the Chem II notes were forgotten, nearly spilling over the side of the bed while Billy sucked hotly at Freddy’s neck. He moved lower, working on Freddy’s nipples one at a time, using his teeth and then soothing them with his tongue. He was taking his time, in no way trying to limit this to a five minute experience. Freddy bit his bottom lip to keep himself from protesting, not wanting any of it to stop. 

“I think about you all day during that class,” Billy said, mumbling this against Freddy’s trembling stomach before flattening his tongue there, licking him again and again, until Freddy was shaking in his thighs, too, pulling Billy’s hair. “S’the only thing that keeps me alive, but it’s dangerous, ‘cause I’ll start to get hard, fuck, just _thinking_ about you.”

“I know,” Freddy said, sobbing this out as quietly as he could. “I used to-- During my shifts, at the theater. I’d do that, think about you and get myself-- Worked up, breathing hard, _ahh_ , yeah. Sometimes it was a good thing customers could only see me from the, the waist up--”

“Ha, wow.” Billy lifted his head and gave Freddy a beaming grin, impressed. “Dirty boy.”

“Says the guy who woke up begging to suck my dick.” 

Billy’s grin just widened. He pushed Freddy’s thighs apart, and they both sighed with bone-melting relief when Billy finally, finally put his mouth where he’d said he would, swallowing Freddy down. Freddy twitched his hips up and pawed at his chest, rubbing the flats of his palms over his nipples, which were both still throbbing from Billy’s attention. He wasn’t going to last long, which was good, even though he wanted to live in Billy’s mouth like this, fucking himself up into that perfect, wet, wanting heat as gently as he could manage, as if Billy didn’t love it when Freddy let himself be rough and held his head in place. Freddy flushed all over and whined, chewing his lip. He wanted to last, despite everything, despite himself.

“Billy,” he said, biting this out, arching his back and pulling hard enough on Billy’s hair to get Billy to pull off of him. 

“Yeah?” Billy said, breathless. “You okay?”

“Hah, huh, yeah-- I’m gonna--”

“Shh, I know. Let me have it. I begged for it, didn’t I?”

Freddy almost came just from hearing that, and stuffed his fist in his mouth so he wouldn’t shout for how good it felt to have Billy’s lips sliding down over him again, his tongue stroking the underside of Freddy’s dick, mouth soaking wet. Billy’s hands were clawed into Freddy’s obscenely spread-apart thighs, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that Freddy would reach into his boxers to stroke his fingertips over after Billy had left for class, and for some reason what sent Freddy over the edge was realizing that they had never blown each other in Billy’s bed before.

“Do you think people draw porn of Blue Bullet and Red Cyclone?” Freddy asked when he had his mind partially back. Billy was hovering over him just short of a kiss, fresh from neatly swallowing up Freddy’s come. 

Billy guffawed. “Porn? I don’t know that I’d call it that.”

“It-- You’ve seen it??”

“I mean, yeah? What? I like looking at fan art of myself, sue me. Sometimes I’m kissing you in the art. Those are usually embarrassing. But sometimes, yeah, they’re pretty hot.” 

“Hot,” Freddy breathed out, in disbelief. The unnamed, not precisely defined but extremely hot, powerful, adoring superhero boyfriend he’d fantasized back when he looked at that kind of art himself was somehow kneeling over him in reality, absently stroking the big dick he wanted Freddy to suck, the big dick Freddy frankly would have begged to suck right then if Billy had asked him to, and it was almost too much, too good. He sat up to give Billy a desperate hug that made him laugh.

“What’s that for?” Billy asked, stroking Freddy’s trembling back. “Was it just a really good blow job?”

“No-- Well, yes, but, I don’t know. I love you, just-- God, I love you. I’ll stay in this body for you, I’ll do anything you want.”

“Freddy.” Billy hugged him back, tight, and rocked him a little. “Love you, too. And same here, anything. Um, so. Would it be crass to ask you to blow me?” He pulled back to peek at Freddy’s face, sheepish and also serious. “In response to that offer?”

“Yes, you prick!” Freddy beamed when Billy looked a little worried, shoulders lifting. “Good thing I love it when you’re crass and that I live to suck your stupid perfect dick. Lie back.” 

Billy didn’t last long, but Freddy still felt exhausted after sucking him off, remembering how tired he was as soon as he rested his cheek on Billy’s shuddering stomach. He knew he shouldn’t allow himself to rest for even a moment, but he couldn’t resist, loved how warm and shaky Billy got after being taken care of so right, the trembly little aftershocks of his orgasm still traveling through his muscles like he’d been lightning-struck, an electric current moving just under the flush that spread across his skin.

“We have to study,” Freddy muttered, eyes closed against Billy’s stomach. 

“I’ll do fine,” Billy said, stiffening a little. His slid his hand down to the back of Freddy’s neck and stroked his fingertip there with a feather-light touch, the way he knew Freddy loved, which reliably made him shiver and press back into the touch. “Seriously, this class isn’t even hard. It’s summer school, they just want us to pass and get out of their faces for good.”

Freddy grunted, hoping this was true. Billy hadn’t seemed very confident with the material during their attempts at study sessions, half of which had ended just like this one, before they really began. 

Billy left for class an hour later, promising again that he would do fine on the test. Freddy relocated to his own bed and slept for another two hours, totally drained in the most delightful way. He pulled himself out of bed when Rosa knocked and reminded him that he needed to give Darla a ride to the community center in an hour. Apparently they were having some science workshop for kids that she wanted to go to. 

Darla had never met a kids’ workshop she didn’t want to attend. Freddy didn’t mind the errand, even if Billy wouldn’t be riding along with him as usual. He took a shower and stripped the sheets off his bed, then Billy’s, piling them on the floor so he’d remember to wash them when he got home. The room really did reek of sex; he closed the door on his way out, face flushed when he went downstairs.

“Billy’s still in class?” Darla said when they headed out to the van. 

“Yep, he has a long one today. Exam time.” 

“Oh, boy. I hope he’ll get an A.”

Freddy grunted, just hoping for a D, or whatever Billy needed to get to manage a passing grade overall. 

“What’s Billy going to do while you’re in college?” Darla asked on the drive to the center.

“Work,” Freddy said. “Mostly as a hero, but he’ll have to make some money, too.”

“Oh, that stinks. It’s like having two jobs! And it’s hard, being Cyclone. Well, not hard, but it’s lots of work! Too bad he can’t get paid for that.”

“Yep,” Freddy said, not really in the mood for this conversation. “We’ll pick you up together later, and we can go for ice cream after, okay?”

“Yeah!” she beamed. “As a treat for Billy, for passing his test.”

Freddy nodded, wishing he had her faith in him to do so. He had a bad feeling as he said goodbye to Darla and turned the van back for the house. Billy would probably be home by the time he got there. Freddy stopped off at the comic book shop, stalling by browsing there for a while, though he had mostly stopped blowing money on comics, keeping it saved for the rapidly approaching start of his adult life. Scholarship or not, everything would get expensive fast. He wanted a car, afraid that if he used his powers to fly to Billy’s apartment from his dorm every time it would be too easy to track him and would expose both their identities. He had nowhere near enough for a car at present, at least not a reliable one, and certainly not one of the new auto-drives he dreamed about having. Though it broke his heart a little, he was seriously considering selling some of his collection of comics and memorabilia, as some of his favorite pieces were allegedly worth a good bit of money. 

He talked with the owner of the comic shop about what he was thinking about selling, and the guy gave him low-ball quotes for everything, despite Freddy having been a loyal customer there since he was twelve, when Rosa and Victor and even Mary became the first people to indulge his comic book obsession by actually buying some for him. The conversation depressed him, and he braced himself for Billy’s post-test bad mood when he parked in the driveway at home and headed for the front door. 

Billy was on the couch when Freddy walked in, and he didn’t look upset. He had showered and was wearing a faded old t-shirt of Freddy’s and basketball shorts that reminded Freddy too much of the ones he wore to bed, the sight hitting him with an instant pang of arousal. Billy smiled at Freddy from the couch, giving him a sweet look that felt like _welcome home_ and _I missed you_. He had a bowl in his lap, filled with orange peel and a half-eaten orange that he was pulling apart into segments. 

“Everyone’s out,” Billy said when Freddy turned to check the kitchen. He patted the couch cushion beside him, beckoning. “Victor’s at work and Rosa’s at yoga. She just left,” he added, giving Freddy a heated look that surprised him, like this was a suggestion that they had time to do something before she got back. 

Freddy hurried to the couch and fell against Billy’s side, pulling him into a hug that he felt like he needed badly. Billy tucked his arm around Freddy and pressed an orange segment to his lips. Freddy opened for it and let Billy feed it to him, properly aroused now but still kind of despairing, too, though he wasn’t even sure why, except that he was scared. So much was set to go right, so soon, and that made it feel like so much could still go wrong, like some essential component of this thing with many delicate moving parts might pull up short just before take-off. 

“What’s the matter?” Billy asked again, after Freddy had eaten a second piece of orange in silence, licking the juice from Billy’s fingers. “Is Darla okay?”

“Oh, god, yes, she’s fine! We have to pick her up at three.”

“I know.” 

“How was the test?”

“Oh.” Billy grinned. “That’s why you’re moping, because you think I flunked? Relax, okay? I feel like I did fine. Don’t worry about me, Freddy.” That last bit was said a little sharply, but Billy followed it up with a kiss, licking the lingering sweet-tart orange taste from Freddy’s lips. “I’m okay, man.” He smiled and rubbed Freddy’s shoulder, seemed to mean it.

He did, but not in the way Freddy thought. The actual way in which he meant this wouldn’t come out for weeks, but when Freddy clung to him there on the couch it was like some part of him was already begging Billy not to go, even when Billy himself still thought he’d never have to. 

In the meantime it felt good to cuddle up together and share a snack, like they were a normal couple. Freddy caught himself smiling dreamily, his cheek resting on Billy’s shoulder, as he thought about how they could soon do this all the time. 

They got a little preview of what that would be like-- would have been like --a few weeks later, when Rosa and Victor decided to let Darla see her mom, who had expressed interest. She wasn’t ready or perhaps even willing to have Darla back, but she wanted to keep in touch, and when Rosa and Victor gently suggested the idea to Darla, assuring her she could say no, Darla had said she’d like to be ‘friends’ with her biological mom, because of course she did. They hadn’t had a bad relationship, though Darla had been too young to remember much of it either way, and Rosa had said more than once that she didn’t think Darla’s mother had ever deserved prison time for a minor possession charge, whatever mistakes she’d made. Freddy could see that Rosa was nervous about the whole thing regardless of all the protections in place, especially in the days leading up to the meetup, which would take place in Providence, Rhode Island, since Darla’s mom lived there and didn’t have a car or money for traveling. Rosa, Victor and Darla would drive there together and stay at a cheap hotel up there after the meetup, both because the drive was so long and to give Darla time with just the two of them, for maximum emotional support. 

This meant Billy and Freddy would have the house to themselves for over twenty-four hours. Rosa and Victor would drive upstate with Darla in the morning that coming Friday, and would return in the early evening on Saturday, depending on traffic. 

They absorbed this information slowly, thrown at first by the prospect of Darla’s mother coming back into her life even in this minimal way, both remembering too acutely what it was like to have Eugene there every day and then gone. Rosa and Victor kept in touch with him and Freddy played video games with him online sometimes, but he was in another world almost as soon as his grandmother surfaced and made her claim on him. It seemed impossible that this could happen with Darla, too, and Freddy knew that was far from the plan, but he caught himself hugging Rosa and using any excuse to call her _Mom_ out loud in the days leading up to the meetup, wanting to reassure her and himself that everything was going to be okay.

By the time that Friday morning finally arrived and Billy and Freddy had hugged everyone goodbye, wishing them luck and both feeling nervous for all three of them, it finally began to dawn on Freddy that this was going to be a much-needed respite from reality for him and Billy. They would be alone together, not just for an hour or two but for more than a full day. They could cuddle not just on the couch but in bed together, all night long.

When Billy turned to him on the front porch, after the van had turned the corner at the end of their road, Freddy could see he was thinking it, too. Billy almost looked like he would cry, maybe because of the Darla situation as much as anything. 

Then he gave Freddy a smile that was equal parts sweet and filthy, clearly thinking, like Freddy was: oh god, oh god. What now.

“Should we go to the grocery store?” Freddy blurted. “Um, ‘cause we can eat whatever we want for breakfast, lunch, dinner, plus tomorrow’s breakfast, lunch, and maybe we should make dinner tomorrow, too, would that be nice? To have dinner waiting for them when they get home?”

“That would be nice,” Billy said, walking closer and nodding, still smiling. “But I don’t want to think about tomorrow night yet, please. Freddy. Come here.” 

Freddy snorted at Billy stealing his usual refrain. He let Billy pull him into the house, checking over his shoulder to make sure no neighbors were watching. 

As soon as they were in the foyer Billy fell onto him and kissed him, not with crazed need but languidly, lapping at Freddy’s mouth with soft brushes his of his tongue and sighing against his lips, acting like they had all the time in the world. In that moment, just ahead of a full day alone in the house together, it did feel that way, like they had so much time. 

“I’m serious about the grocery store,” Freddy said when Billy pulled back, not sure why he was whispering.

“Is that like a fetish you have?” Billy asked, also whispering, clearly just to tease Freddy for doing so. “Grocery shopping with me?”

“Sort of,” Freddy confessed, voice almost breaking, and Billy moaned and kissed him again. 

“Yeah, I know,” Billy said when he pulled back, leaving Freddy in mid-swoon. “Jesus, do you know what I was thinking? Want to hear the dorkiest thing ever?”

“Always,” Freddy said, already beaming.

“I want, um. I’ve always, secretly, like. Wanted to get in the bath with you. Could we do that?”

“Oh my god! I didn’t even think of that! Yes, amazing! Let’s go do it right now!”

Billy laughed hard and tried to kiss Freddy while still cracking up, his face red and his hand cupped around the back of Freddy’s neck in the way that Freddy loved best, with Billy’s thumb stroking over the column of his throat. It was the kind of gesture Freddy found reassuring and hot in equal measure, one that gave him this dizzy yet comforting sense of being owned, because of course he belonged to Billy, too. He didn’t need to say so to know that Billy understood. Billy touched him like he understood, which was even better.

“I’m totally serious about taking a bath together right now,” Freddy said, eyes wild. “That sounds like, so sort of embarrassing and lame that it’s incredibly hot, to me, right now.”

“Good.” Billy gave the tip of Freddy’s nose a little lick, as if to seal this promise that they would be extra dorky with each other during this precious private time. “‘Cause that’s all I want from you for the next twenty-four hours, okay? Embarrassing and lame hotness. I just want to be fucking ridiculous, like. Like-- I want to, um. Wash your hair?” 

“Oh my god.” Freddy burst into laughter and slumped back against the door, hands over his mouth. Billy wrinkled his nose at this reaction, blushing hard. “No, that’s great, that’s perfect. Yes, let’s be super cheesy and weird. I want it, let’s go.”

They made an itinerary, upon Freddy’s insistence. He expected Billy to make fun of him for this, but Billy only laughed under his breath a little and agreed to everything Freddy sketched out. They decided to start with the grocery store, so that once they had all their supplies they could be in various states of undress until at least tomorrow afternoon. 

Despite their solemn vow to be full-on ridiculous with everything they wanted most, or most secretly, Freddy still felt a little torn up and strange about just how much it meant to him to be pushing a shopping cart through the grocery store with Billy at his side. He had thought about this so much, maybe too much: all the mundane details of the life they would have together, everything about it secretly spectacular because they were heroes, because they could fly and fight supervillains and bounce back with a vengeance after being thrown through walls, but they were also a real-life couple who could debate over which kind of bread to buy. The idea that in addition to all their larger than life adventures there would be many little commonplace trips to stores and chores done together was making Freddy emotional about every decision they made at the store: those chips, this ice cream, turkey burgers for their dinner that night, steaks for the surprise family dinner tomorrow. They’d budgeted fifty dollars for their indulgence-fest’s supplies, but this quickly shot up to seventy. Billy transformed behind the store and went back in to buy some champagne afterward, too. They felt like real grown-ups just for spending a whole twenty bucks on the bottle.

“Celebrating something, Cyclone?” a customer in line behind him shouted, waving when Billy turned back to look at him. Freddy watched this exchange from his spot near the door, all the bags of stuff they’d already purchased piled at his feet.

“What, oh-- Yeah, uh.” Billy glanced at Freddy, who lifted his shoulders. “A friend of mine is turning twenty-one,” Billy said, everyone in the store watching him by then, a couple of phones lifted and recording. “So, this is his gift. Have a great day, everyone!”

“Tell your friend happy birthday from me,” the cashier said, giving Billy a hi-you-could-fuck-me smile that Freddy didn’t appreciate but couldn’t blame her for.

“Will do,” Billy said, winking and pointing a finger at her. “Thanks for your help. You’re doing a great job--” Billy leaned in to read her name tag. “Lila!” 

“Oh my god,” she said, now looking more like she would cry. “Thank you.”

Billy left to applause, just for buying champagne, just because he was Red Cyclone.

“Let me help you with these bags, son!” he said when he’d hurried over toward Freddy, and he scooped up everything they’d bought while Freddy gave him a ‘really’ look.

“Thanks, Cyclone,” Freddy said. “How are we going to get out of here without being followed?” he added, speaking from the corner of his mouth as they hurried out of the store. 

“Uhhh.” Billy kept walking, as aware as Freddy that they were still being recorded on various phone cameras. “I think you might have to climb onto my back, dude.” 

“No way! What?”

“I could fly us out of here with super speed, just do it!” 

They got as far as they could from onlookers, and as soon as Billy squatted down, all their grocery bags hugged against his chest, Freddy threw his arms around Billy’s neck and held on tight, almost losing his crutch when Billy shot away from the store and flew toward home. 

“Holy shit!” Freddy screamed, eyes pinched shut against the wind that blasted against them. “Fuck!”

“You can transform anytime you want!” Billy shouted back, and Freddy made himself wait a few more seconds, though there was no way people from the store could still see them, fast as Billy was moving. By the time Freddy transformed they had already overshot the house.

It was a minor miracle that none of their groceries tumbled out from the bags Billy had hugged to his chest, and Freddy took it as a good omen. They made it almost all the way home before transforming back into their non-super bodies, and Billy had to carry most of the bags on the short walk back to the house. Neither of them could stop laughing all the way there, or say exactly what was so funny. 

“Okay, that champagne needs at least five hours before it’s even remotely not just going to explode all over us,” Freddy said when they were unpacking everything in the kitchen. 

“Exploding all over is the theme of the day, though,” Billy said, giving Freddy a look like this was a serious statement before they both burst out laughing again. 

Freddy ended up sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs wrapped around Billy while they kissed until they were too hungry to keep going. They’d bought sticky bakery cinnamon rolls for their breakfast and were starving for them by the time they fed them to each other, pulling them apart with their fingers and pushing them into each other’s mouths, making a mess. They licked the lingering sugar off each other’s lips after they were done, hard in their pants just for this. 

“Okay, now we seriously need a bath,” Freddy said, lips and hands still sticky. 

“Good thing that’s next on your agenda,” Billy said. “Wouldn’t want to deviate from that.”

“You fucking love my agendas.” 

Freddy flushed after saying so, afraid Billy would balk.

Billy just gazed up at him, smiling. He nodded and licked over his cinnamon-flavored lips.

“Yep,” he said, softly enough that Freddy felt a little bad for making him admit it.

Freddy felt jittery while the bath ran, like he was about to show Billy some important new facet of his life that Billy was unfamiliar with and might not find impressive, as if Billy had never taken a bath himself or, apparently, fantasized about taking one with Freddy and washing his hair. They both stripped their clothes off only when the tub was almost full, steaming. Freddy had made the water hot despite the fact that it was July and already blistering outside before noon. The air conditioning was working, mostly, and they had shut the bathroom door despite being alone in the house, so the steam clogged the air. They were both breathing hard and staring at each other, pink-cheeked. 

“Get ready for the awkward part,” Freddy said, his hand braced against the bathroom counter. “I basically fall into the bath, uh. It’s not graceful.”

“I could help you,” Billy said, gently. He knew Freddy often didn’t want to be helped, when it came to things like this.

Freddy shrugged. “Nah, it’s-- Here, c’mon.”

He didn’t wait for Billy to come over and give him the hand that in fact it would have been helpful to have, just put his ass on the rim of the tub in his usual way and sank in as slowly as he could with his hands braced on both sides, only making the water slosh a little. Billy hovered uncertainly for a moment, then slid his too-big body in with even less grace than Freddy had, settling himself between Freddy’s spread-apart legs and already breathing hard, like this was some big new deal they were doing. Freddy supposed it was. He pulled Billy down for a kiss and laughed against his mouth.

“What?” Billy asked.

“Nothing, just. I usually face the other direction?” Freddy pointed to the other side of the tub, as if Billy wouldn’t understand this comment. “I don’t know why I went in on this end just because you’re with me.”

“Aww, you were giving me your spot.” Billy grinned and leaned back against the other side of the tub, his knees knocking against the sides. “Come here,” he said, reaching for Freddy. “Lay on my chest, like, facing outward.”

“Wow, you’ve got the blocking worked out and everything!” 

“Okay, guy who got a boner for buying groceries with me.”

“I did not have a boner! I just had feelings, okay, it’s different. You wouldn’t understand.”

Billy snickered and wrapped his arms around Freddy when he moved into the position where Billy wanted him. Freddy felt a little dumb and small before he relaxed into it and let his weight settle fully onto Billy’s wet chest. It was nice, he had to admit, and he heard himself already making an incriminating soft noise of approval when Billy touched his chest and adjusted behind him. Of course they were both hard. Freddy wondered if they would be all day long, and was that even healthy?

“I used to walk by when you were in here,” Billy said, his hands sliding from Freddy’s hipbones and up to his shoulders. “I’d hear a little like, water-swishing noise and would think about you in here naked and would feel like an evildoer.”

“How you missed that I was near-constantly thinking about you naked is beyond me.” Freddy sighed and bucked a little in Billy’s grip, completely aware of Billy’s current evil plan, which was to not touch Freddy’s dick until he’d been driven insane by these other touches. “You’re not an evildoer,” Freddy said, shifting his head onto Billy’s shoulder so he could look up into Billy’s eyes. “You could never be.”

“Sure I could. If you hadn’t been there? I’d still be out posing for selfies and wrecking buses.”

“You would not.” 

“Mhm, well. We’ll never know now, will we.”

“Thank god,” Freddy said, and he huffed, reaching down under the water to grab Billy’s hips. “And not because I’m not sure that you would have become a good hero anyway. Just because, holy crap. What if we’d never met! Shit. I can’t even conceive of my life without you. Is that bad?”

“No.” Billy sounded so grave. Freddy looked up at him again. “It’s not bad,” Billy said, more softly. “We just. We didn’t know what it was like. Until we had each other, so. That’s why we’re so, um. That’s why I feel I can’t even breathe right when you’re not around. Right?”

“It’s not some weird thing unique to us,” Freddy said, not entirely sure where Billy was going with this or why he looked so worried. He’d gone a little tense under Freddy. “I mean, every couple that’s madly in love with each other feels that way, yeah? And would be all over each other every night if they were lucky enough to share a room.” 

“Mhm.” Billy sounded like he still wasn’t sure they were lucky in this regard, because he thought it made them a pair of nefarious betrayers of the family’s faith in them. Freddy rolled his eyes and sat up with a grunt.

“So, are you gonna do it?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder at Billy. 

“Which part?” Billy asked, and Freddy snorted.

“The hair washing,” he said, feeling like the dorky one now for asking for it.

“Yep,” Billy said. He stood and grabbed the detachable showerhead, leaning over Freddy in the process. Freddy snickered as Billy settled back into the water behind him. He felt nervous about this and wasn’t sure why, and was a little shocked by how good it felt just to have Billy using the showerhead to wet his curls.  

Freddy had expected having his hair washed to be hot or funny, or both, but it quickly became something else. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was some repressed memory from childhood, but he felt almost like he would cry by the time Billy was rinsing soap suds from his hair. He wasn’t unaccustomed to feeling taken care of anymore: Rosa and Victor made him feel so safe, in one way, and so did Billy, in another. This was some advanced level of that feeling, like pure sunlight pouring straight through him, every previously dark corner within him glowing warm and bright. Freddy was almost shaky with the need to return the favor for Billy by the time his hair was rinsed clean. 

Billy smiled and nodded when Freddy offered to wash his hair, and Freddy knew he felt it, too, like this was some kind of sacred ceremonial thing, almost. Freddy followed Billy’s lead and didn’t speak at all while doing it, listening instead for Billy’s almost-overwhelmed little sighs of contentment. They held each other for a long time in the bath afterward, until the water was cold.  

When they went back to their room they crawled into Freddy’s bed, naked and fragrant from the bath, both of them a little buzzy from an overload of some kind of emotion that Freddy couldn’t name. Though it was warm in the house, the heat of the summer day creeping past the thin windows and combatting the air conditioning, Freddy pulled the sheet on the bed up over them, all the way over their heads. Billy laughed a little and curled in close to him underneath, lying between Freddy and the wall. Freddy stroked Billy’s damp hair, kissed his forehead. They were both somewhat hard but this seemed important, too. They could finally take their time with each other, and though they could also make as much noise as they wanted, for whatever reason they were even quieter than usual, not saying much and only moaning softly when they pressed together, kissed, and began to work up a sweat under the sheet. 

The mood from the bath lingered as they went about their day. They were both quiet, giving each other dopey grins and existing in an easy harmony that felt delicate and untouchable at the same time. It was like they were both recovering from some illness and needed extra care. Freddy made sandwiches for their lunch and Billy hovered behind him the whole time, kissing the top of Freddy’s head and stroking the hair on his arms, supporting him so he could stand there without needing the cane. After eating they stretched out on the living room couch together in boxers and t-shirts, and Freddy spooned himself up behind Billy while they stared at the TV, neither of them really seeing any of the shows they put on, too wrapped up in the feeling of being together like they were blameless and unafraid. Freddy knew it was an even bigger deal for Billy than for him. 

It was peaceful but exciting at the same time, like flying felt in daylight, when they were headed nowhere in particular together, just soaring. Freddy nibbled at the rim of Billy’s ear while they lingered on the couch together, softly licked his neck, pushed his hand up under Billy’s shirt to feel his way over the muscles on his chest, then down to his belly. Billy sighed and pressed back against him, eyes closed, a blissed-out smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Freddy had pictured racuous fucking during this precious alone time, but once they were finally in it he wanted to stay like this, soft and slow.

They popped the champagne at sundown and drank it from plastic cups on the back patio, which was shielded from the neighboring houses by the fence that ringed the yard. Billy used this as an excuse to cook turkey burgers in nothing but his boxer shorts, which made Freddy laugh and probably would have made him hard, too, if he wasn’t so lightheaded and floppy already from one cup of champagne. 

“Freddy’s first drink ever,” Billy said when he took his empty cup and refilled it. “What did you think?”

“Uhh, tastes good at first, then kinda bad? No offense,” he added, because Billy had picked it out. 

“I like it,” Billy said, and when he took a swig straight from the bottle Freddy laughed hysterically, wishing he had his phone. He wanted to take a picture, not for meme-ing purposes but solely for Freddy’s consumption: Billy shirtless in his boxers on a warm summer night, the metal spatula he was using to flip the burgers in one hand while he tilted the champagne bottle into his mouth with the other. Billy laughed, too, breathless after he’d swallowed, and when he met Freddy’s eyes Freddy could swear Billy knew exactly what he was thinking, like they could directly access each other’s brainwaves under the right circumstances, and these were precisely those circumstances. 

“Would you ever want mindreading powers?” Freddy asked when Billy brought him his refilled cup.

“Nah,” Billy said. “All I would want is the ability to know where crime is happening, so I could go there and help. Reading people’s minds would be too much, too scary.”

“Knowing where all the world’s crimes were taking place would be, too! Even Superman couldn’t handle that. It’s too much pressure, also impossible to tackle all at once.”

“I didn’t say all the world’s crimes. Just Philly’s.”

“Oh, sure, so you’d just be constantly responsible for a hundred and forty million people, no biggie.”

“Are there really a hundred and forty million people in Philly?” Billy wrinkled his nose when Freddy nodded. “That’s crazy. Sometimes I swear it just feels like our little neighborhood. Like everybody knows us.”

“Well, they do know us. As Cyclone and Bullet, anyway. But we don’t exactly know them.” 

“That’s kinda sad,” Billy said, turning back to the burgers.

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

Freddy drank more champagne, liking the taste a little better already. He peered into the cup, letting the bubbles jump against his face and wishing Billy didn’t have to find so many things sad, things that could just as easily be seen as innocuous, imperfect but okay. 

They were both drunk by the time the burgers were ready, laughing at everything. They went back into the house, missing the air conditioning, and Freddy peeled his shirt off, too. He sat at the dinner table in his underwear, blushing a little for the feeling and giggling under his breath when Billy served him his plate. 

“Wait, we forgot to have a toast!” Billy said when was seated across from Freddy. He lifted his cup of champagne-- His third or fourth, Freddy had lost count. 

Freddy lifted his, too, waiting. 

Billy chewed his lip. “To our bright future,” he said, tapping his cup against Freddy’s. “Because someday the world is gonna need saving, and we’re gonna do it together.” 

“Aww,” Freddy said, loving drunk Billy so much more than he did on prom night, fully appreciating him like this now that he was drunk, too. “Yes, yeah. Totally. Also! To spending the whole day in our underwear.” 

“Not the _whole_ day. But yeah. That’s good, also.”

The champagne was gone by the time they finished eating, and Freddy felt spinny with a kind of dizzying freedom, a little bit like he had when he first floated off the ground without trying, using his powers in a way that he still thought of as intuitive, whereas it had taken Billy over a week to figure out how to fly. They brought the empty bottle up to their room and hid it, planning to dispose of it the next day in a neighbor’s trashcan. Freddy crawled into the bottom bunk and rolled onto his stomach with a groan, the dizzy feeling coalescing a little uncomfortably as he settled into place. He felt purely good again when Billy straddled him from behind and started rubbing his shoulders, then the back of his neck, taking his time before finally moving down to Freddy’s back. 

“God, yes,” Billy said when Freddy moaned for him, ready to be loud now. “Fuck, tell me.”

“Tell you?” Freddy said, laughing into his pillow. 

“Yeah, tell me how good it feels. Freddy, jesus. I just want to make you feel good. Sometimes it feels like the only thing I really want. Or the most-- Thing-- More than anything, I mean.”

Freddy snickered. “I know,” he said. “Same here. When you’re, uh. Riding me? Like you do? Oh my god. Feels so good, for me, obviously, but. The best part is how you get.”

“How I get?” Billy gave Freddy a smack on the ass that made him gasp. “Yeah, I know you like that. Does it make you feel big and strong?” Billy asked, leaning down to murmur this against Freddy’s ear. “Watching me go to pieces on your dick?”

“Why, yes, it does,” Freddy said, and Billy laughed hard at this response.

The booze helped them both last longer than they usually could when that part of the evening rolled around, and for some reason they were both determined to keep hold of each other’s hands while Billy rocked himself down onto Freddy’s cock, even after their palms got sweaty and downright slippery, as if this was part of some challenge they’d set for each other. Freddy was sweltering hot between Billy’s spread-apart thighs by the time he arched weakly and came inside him, sweat rolling down his temples and soaking into his hair. Billy was dripping with it, too, and he locked eyes with Freddy while he jerked himself off, still on him in a way that was getting a little painful by the time he finished and clenched up hard around Freddy’s oversensitive dick. The booze helped with this, too: Freddy just lay there letting Billy have him, letting the intensity of this feeling wash through him like another wave of heat.

As soon as they pulled apart Freddy nudged Billy into the spot where he most wanted him: between Freddy and the wall, safe and sound if also breathless and sweat-soaked. They left some space between their slowly cooling bodies while the sweat dried on their skin. Freddy stroked his fingertips over Billy’s plumped-up bottom lip, unable to keep from touching him entirely. Billy just slumped there giving Freddy a fucked-out, lovesick stare, half-smiling and half-asleep already, too. 

“I was born to be yours,” Freddy said when he was finally feeling brave enough, not quite drunk anymore and not quite sure if Billy was cognizant enough to hear this the way Freddy wanted him to. Freddy had come up with it months ago, in answer to what Billy had said to him on the day of their first kiss, _I fucking belong to you_. 

“Oh,” Billy said, and he had definitely heard what Freddy was saying, the full depth of it, because his eyes went sad for a moment before he scooted over to curl himself into Freddy’s arms. Billy was still warm, still breathing a little hard. His face was wet when he hid it against Freddy’s throat. “Yeah,” he said, voice croaky and small. “That’s true.” 

Freddy grinned and pushed his face into Billy’s sweat-damp hair, because that goofy, mumbled little response was perfect, dammit. Billy was too good at this. 

They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other. At some point during the night, the room got cool enough to make Freddy want the bedsheet, and he dragged it up over them. After he had, he stayed awake for a while, for as long as he could, kissing the top of Billy’s head and listening to his soft breathing, warm and steady against Freddy’s collarbone. When he woke up hours later he’d rolled over in his sleep and Billy was spooned up behind him, holding him the way he had that first time. Freddy twitched tiredly back against him and Billy tightened his grip a little, sighing into Freddy’s hair. Freddy fell asleep again, smiling, glad Billy was awake and reveling in this the way Freddy had until the need to sleep took him back under.

The morning came too soon and they lingered in bed, both a little achy from drinking but not suffering terribly. They woke up in stages, a little at a time, running their hands lazily over each other beneath the sheet and falling asleep in mid-touch, then rousing minutes later to do it again. All Freddy could think about when he fully regained consciousness was how much he wanted this every day, for the rest of his life: for Billy to be the first thing he saw, touched, and tasted every morning.

“We should have patrolled last night,” Billy said when they were downstairs making waffles for breakfast, attempting to incorporate chocolate chips into the usual family batter recipe.

“Why?” Freddy asked, looking over to see Billy was frowning at his phone. “Did something happen?”

“Oh-- No.” Billy put the phone away-- Hurriedly, in a way that made Freddy’s heart start to beat faster. “Just, was thinking, you know. We wouldn’t have had to go out the window, for once.”

“Hm.” Freddy decided to let it go, not wanting to ruin what remained of their alone time together. “Well. I liked what we did, so. As long as some catastrophe didn’t happen without us, I’m fine with it.” 

“Don’t get all testy,” Billy said. “We could go out today?”

“Sure.” Freddy shrugged. He’d assumed they would spend the rest of the afternoon in bed together and then clean up and get ready to make dinner for the family. Rosa had texted them both already, saying that everything had gone fine with Darla’s mom and they would start their drive back to Philly after lunch in Rhode Island, meaning they would arrive back at the house by early evening as planned. 

“Or we could stay in,” Billy said, giving Freddy a desperate, don’t-be-mad look. “And go out later, after dinner. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Whatever you want,” Freddy said. “Your waffle’s burning.”

After breakfast they slumped onto the couch together and played video games on the technically-stolen system that they’d hidden up in their room for years before introducing it to the family room, saying they’d pooled their part-time job money to buy it. Freddy still remembered standing in front of that ATM with Billy in costume every time he held the controllers, and how he’d thought, well, this is wrong, but also really fucking fun. And then he’d worried about some actual superhero finding out about their antics and going to battle against Billy for wielding his powers irresponsibly. He’d brought this up to Billy, who’d scoffed and said nobody of superhero status would care about an ATM in Philly missing a couple hundred bucks. 

“What kind of supervillains would we be?” Freddy asked, eyes still on the TV screen while his guy did battle with the girl character Billy was playing as.

“Bad ones,” Billy said. “I mean, in the sense that we’d be bad at it. ‘Cause we don’t want to hurt people. Supervillains-- That’s their main thing.”

“Sometimes their main thing is just accumulating power, and if people get hurt in the process, so be it.” 

“Nah, most of them revel in doing damage.” 

Freddy rolled his eyes. Like Billy knew more about this than him. 

The rest of the day was far less blissful than the day before had been, but Freddy had anticipated this and was okay with it. The hours passed too quickly, and Billy was in a pouty mood as they faced the return to reality. Freddy wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to walk around feeling like a criminal for being in love with the foster kid he shared a bedroom with, that he’d made this choice pointlessly and kept making it for reasons Freddy couldn’t understand, but he didn’t want to get in a fight. By three o’clock they were back in Freddy’s bed together, cuddling and watching videos on his phone, listening for the sound of the van pulling up outside. 

At four o’clock Freddy got a text from Rosa that said _almost home!_ He grinned, wondering if she knew they needed a warning. He almost liked the idea that she’d figured out that Freddy was in love with Billy, if nothing else. Billy would act like Freddy was insane if he knew this, and Freddy couldn’t even really explain it to himself, except that having won Billy’s heart was one of his favorite things about himself, and he just wanted to fucking be proud of it in public for once, for Rosa and the rest of the family to know at least something about this most important part of his life.

By the time the van pulled up they’d started cooking dinner, and Freddy chalked the emotional quality of the hugs he and Billy received from Rosa, Victor, and Darla to the intensity of their experience with Darla’s mother, but there turned out to be more to it than that. Darla went upstairs to take a bath, and Rosa asked Freddy and Billy to take a break from cooking and sit at the kitchen table with her and Victor. 

“What’s going on?” Billy asked as soon as he was seated beside Freddy, already on edge. Freddy was trying not to freak out himself, because it did seem like something serious was happening. He braced himself to hear that Darla was leaving them, though that seemed impossible. She’d been cheerful when she came in, her same old self. 

“Victor and I have been talking for a while now,” Rosa said, “And on this trip, we made a decision, but it’s your decision, too, so.” She glanced at Victor and he gave her a smile, squeezed her shoulder. 

“We talked about this with Darla already,” Victor said. “We’ve going to adopt her. That’s part of what this meeting with her mother was about. We didn’t need her legal blessing, but we wanted, you know. To keep her in the loop.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Freddy said, relieved, beaming. Billy smiled, too, nodding.

“And,” Rosa said, holding her open hand out toward them. “Freddy, Billy. We want to adopt both of you, too, if you’re open to it.” 

Freddy wasn’t sure what sort of expression he had on his face. He felt sort of frozen, though not cold. He was getting warm all over, in fact, flushing like he’d just been asked on a date.

“Obviously, you’re both eighteen,” Victor said. “So, maybe it’s more symbolic than anything, but.” He cleared his throat. “You’re our kids, so. We’d love to make it official, you know?”  

“Fuh-- yeah!” Freddy had never felt more emotionally clumsy. He’d wanted this since he was twelve. He laughed nervously when Rosa reached across the table to hold his hand. “I mean, of course--” He looked over at Billy. 

Billy didn’t look okay. He was visibly trying to hold in tears, bottom lip shaking. 

“Yeah,” Billy managed to say, nodding. “Yes, I mean-- My answer, um, is yes. Thank you.” 

“Oh, honey.” Rosa got up and went to him. 

Billy tried to laugh it off. He wrapped his arms around Rosa when she hugged him, and flinched when Freddy touched his back without thinking. 

“It’s a big deal,” Victor said. “So, if you need more time--”

“Why would we need time?” Freddy asked. “I mean, personally-- No, yeah. I love you guys, just. You’re my parents, so.” He heard himself getting a little choked up, too, though he didn’t feel sad. He wasn’t sure what he felt. A lot of things, all at once. 

“We’re going to adopt Mary and Pedro, too, if they want us to,” Rosa said, still holding Billy while he blinked rapidly and avoided Freddy’s eyes. “But we want to talk with them about it in person, so please don’t mention anything to them yet if you talk online. I’m thinking we can ask them about it when they come home at the end of the summer to celebrate Billy’s graduation.” 

That was when Billy lost it, eyes pinching up tight. He shook his head, put his hands over his face, and wouldn’t stop saying _sorry, I’m sorry_ between broken sobs and gasping breath, over and over, while Victor and Rosa rubbed his back and tried to calm him down, saying it was okay, okay to cry, okay to feel whatever he was feeling, no apologies needed. Billy just said sorry a million more times, until his voice was barely working. Freddy sat there watching, eyes burning, physically aching with the need to hold him. 

Billy tried to act normal during dinner. Darla was chipper, but Freddy could see even she was worried about Billy, giving him nervous glances while he pushed the food around on his plate. Freddy tried not to worry too much-- It was emotional, Billy was insecure about fitting in with the family, and if Rosa and Victor adopted both of them, they would legally be brothers, which was probably why he was freaking out.

Freddy did the dishes, expecting Billy to stay and help him, but he said he had a closing shift at the hardware store, which Freddy knew was a lie. Rosa and Victor might have realized this, too, but they let him go, sensing that he needed some space. 

Up in their bedroom after dinner, Freddy watched the clock, telling himself that Billy must need space from him, too, because if that wasn’t the case he would be home already and curled up in Freddy’s arms. The hardware store closed at nine on Saturdays, and closing could mean Billy was there as late as ten, if he even cared about making his story plausible for Rosa and Victor’s sake. Freddy typed a text to Billy at ten thirty, when he still wasn’t back. 

_You okay? Where are you? Can I come?_

Freddy stared at this for a while before sending, wondering if it was too clingy or needy or something, but they were always clingy with each other, shamelessly needy, so why was he worrying about this now? He sent it and stared at his screen, startling against his pillow when he heard a buzz from up on Billy’s bed.

Billy’s phone was there, tucked under his pillow, which meant he was out on the town as Red Cyclone, most likely. There were no pockets on the costume.

Victor came to say goodnight at eleven o’clock. He sighed when he saw Billy was still gone, but didn’t seem surprised.

“He’s okay,” Victor said when he could see that Freddy was worried. “I know I don’t have to tell you that there are a lot of weird, big feelings around this whole concept.”

“Yeah,” Freddy said, realizing where he should go look for Billy as soon as the house went quiet, as soon as he could sneak away. 

“You okay, meanwhile?” Victor asked, sitting beside Freddy on the bed and giving his knee a friendly shake. 

“I think so.” Freddy moaned and put his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “Just, oh my god. I’ll be so glad when college isn’t _looming_ , when I’m already there and everything’s fine.” 

“I know you’re stressed,” Victor said, rubbing Freddy’s back until he sat up straight again. “It’s a lot to wrap your head around. We’re here for you, okay? And Billy will be, too, so don’t worry about that. You’re not gonna lose any of us.” 

Freddy attempted to smile, for Victor's sake. Of course he and Rosa knew what Freddy’s college anxiety was really about: Billy, the separation, the whole idea of not having lives that ran exactly parallel to each other, of not sleeping in beds that were stacked on top of each other. And they didn’t even know about the rest of it, that Freddy was planning to be in Billy’s bed every night full stop, in some theoretical apartment that Billy hadn’t rented yet. 

Rosa stopped by before lights out to let Freddy know that Billy had called her. Freddy recoiled a little, trying not to show the full extent of how disturbed he was by this development.

“He said he’s out with Phil, that they went for a late dinner,” Rosa said, shrugging. “I don’t recognize the number he was calling from, but he sounded okay. I guess he left his phone here by accident?”

“Yeah, it’s-- Yeah.” Freddy’s heart was slamming, because what the fuck. There was no fucking way that Billy had sought out the company of his manager at the hardware store for comfort. 

“Anyway,” Rosa said, sighing. “He said he’s on his way home soon, but not to wait up. Which I take it means ‘soon’ isn’t too accurate, but. He’s eighteen, and I trust him. Just keep an eye out for him, okay? I’d stay up with you, but we’re totally drained. Everything went well on the trip, just. It was a lot, these past few days.”

“No kidding,” Freddy said, and he got up to give her a hug goodnight.

As soon as the house went quiet, Freddy was out the window. He called the lightning from the roof, not because he didn’t think he could scramble down without Billy there to catch him, just because he was increasingly enraged and had no patience left for waiting to fly to where he was sure he’d find Billy.

The flight to Marilyn’s apartment complex was brief, and Freddy saw Billy before he got there, a spot of red in the distance, white cape blowing out behind him as he perched on the roof, watching from the spot where he could both see the superstore where his biological mom worked and all of her route home. When she worked a closing shift, the subway would close before she clocked out, and she’d have to walk home alone in the dark, whatever loser boyfriend she was shacked up with always unwilling or unable to pick her up. Freddy hadn’t realized Billy still watched to make sure she made it home safe, but he wasn’t really surprised. It was also possible that this was the first time he’d done it in a while.

“Stalker,” Billy said when Freddy landed on the roof. Billy attempted a smile, and Freddy wished he didn’t have such a weakness for Billy looking sheepish and nervous while also in his super-form.

“What the fuck,” Freddy said, keeping his distance. 

“I needed some air,” Billy said. His eyes hardened a little, the sheepish thing departing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-- Whatever. Make things worse.” He scoffed and turned away, pointing his gaze in the direction of Marilyn’s store again, though it would be open for two more hours and she never got to leave early.

“Worse?” Freddy said, walking toward him. “You’re that disturbed by them adopting us? Look, I know you don’t want to hurt them, but you can say no--”

“Of course I’m not going to say no!” Billy whirled to give Freddy a furious look. “God!” 

“Well excuse the fuck out of me if it kind of seems like you want to, especially considering you came here, to see her, on the night they asked about it!”

“I’m not going to see her. I mean, I’m not going to talk to her, or anything like that. I’m just-- I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Whose phone did you call Rosa from?”

Billy reared back a little, like the question was weird, or like Freddy had crossed some kind of line. 

“Nobody’s,” he said, mumbling. 

“Somebody’s, actually. And don’t fucking tell me it was a pay phone.”

“Oh, because you think you know whose phone it was, huh?”

“I’m surprised Robin even deigns to handle such banal technology,” Freddy said, sneering.

“What is your problem?” Billy snapped. “I can have friends, it’s not a freaking crime. Or is it, just because--”

He stopped himself, but Freddy heard it anyway: just because you don’t have any.

“If you want me to go, just say so,” Freddy said, hating that his voice still had the ability to sound weak, even when he was in super form.

“Freddy,” Billy said, hurrying toward him. 

Freddy shook his head and bolted, flying away. Billy flew after him, was faster, caught him in mid-air. 

“Okay, we can’t do this here,” Billy said, turning Freddy over his in arms when they were floating above the city, Freddy only struggling a little. Billy was stronger than him, but Freddy didn’t really want him to let go, anyway. 

“Why not?” Freddy said, huffing. “Will Robin see and disapprove? Is he hanging around, did you send him to get you coffee?”

Billy grinned. Freddy scowled at him and broke free from his arms, floated nearby. 

“Oh, you’re jealous,” Billy said, snickering. “Freddy-- Wait!”

He flew after Freddy when he streaked away again. This time Billy hit him hard in mid-air, tackling him. Freddy resented how good it felt, despite everything, to be slammed into by Billy and held, to not be able to get away from him.

“Stop!” Billy said. “Seriously, man, someone will see. And not fucking Robin, I only went to the quarry to use him for his phone. I didn’t want to be around anyone, I just. I, hah. I’m so--”

Freddy pulled free from Billy’s grip but didn’t go far, waiting to hear more. Billy had gone silent, eyes downcast. Freddy floated in front of him, studying Billy’s face until he met Freddy’s gaze again. 

“Come back to the roof and sit with me,” Billy said, reaching for him. “I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone, but. I was glad when you showed up. Really glad. Please?”

“Why’d you call Rosa and not me?” Freddy asked, though he knew.

Billy rolled his eyes. “‘Cause I had this obviously unwarranted suspicion that you’d flip out about me using Robin’s phone. And I knew Rosa would tell you I was okay.”

Freddy huffed, annoyed by how suddenly rational Billy could get in the middle of one of his emotional meltdowns. Billy crooked his finger and Freddy drifted toward him almost unconsciously, halting when he was just out of reach. 

“People down below are probably taking video of this,” Billy said, glancing at the ground. “Cyclone and Bullet having a lover’s quarrel in mid-air. It’ll be on the news in the morning.”

“It will not.” Freddy glanced down, too, fretting. 

“Let’s get out of sight, just in case. Come sit with me. I need you.” 

Billy knew those were the magic words to get Freddy to do whatever he wanted. They worked like a charm, like always: Freddy followed him back to the roof of Marilyn’s building and let Billy sit close to him in his usual spot, their shoulders touching. Freddy was still mad, exhausted despite being in super form and pretending not to notice Billy’s pitiful looks in his direction. 

“There she is,” Freddy said, without really meaning to, when he saw Marilyn in the parking lot, walking away from the few other coworkers who were closing down the store. 

Billy didn’t say anything. He looked so lost that Freddy put an arm around him, all forgiven. 

“They do think of us as brothers,” Billy said, muttering. “Or, they will, now.” 

“Who cares,” Freddy said, and he snorted when Billy turned to him, wide-eyed. “I’m serious,” Freddy said. “We know what we are to each other. If other people have some temporary misunderstanding of it--”

“Freddy, they want to _legally_ adopt us!” 

“So what! That doesn’t magically turn us into blood relations. God, forget it. I don’t even want to talk about this. Just watch Marilyn walk home and then we’re going to bed, okay? I can’t believe you’re out like this, worrying them, after they put their hearts on their sleeves like that.”

Billy looked like he would cry. Freddy felt terrible, though he stood by the sentiment. Billy was creating problems where there were none, when plenty of potential problems were already springing up around them as the end of summer approached, mushroom-like, menacing. 

Freddy rubbed Billy’s bicep consolingly and turned to join him in watching Marilyn make her way through the streets down below, dragging her steps after a long shift spent on her feet. She looked so tiny. Freddy almost loved her, too, from afar, for a moment. He couldn’t deny, also, that a sad, insecure, childish little thing within him hated that Billy loved anyone who Freddy didn’t love, too. Rosa, Victor, and their siblings were okay. Everyone else felt like an insult. 

Back home, they retired to their separate beds. In the morning, everybody in the house was tense, but as the day went on things eased back into their comfortable routines, and by the time Billy and Freddy were driving Darla to her practice as usual, Freddy felt like some kind of crisis had been averted. 

It bothered him, though, that he couldn’t put his finger on what the crisis was, exactly. He just knew it had something to do with Billy disappearing, running away, and seeking out Robin without telling him. 

The tension continued to uncoil over the days that followed, and twice Freddy thought Billy was going to dare staying in bed with him all night long. They were way past the days when Rosa or Victor woke them up for school, Billy’s alarm doing all the work now. But both times, when Freddy was drifting off comfortably with Billy wrapped around him, he woke to the feeling of Billy ascending to his bed, leaving Freddy with a kiss and the red sweatshirt he wore when they fucked, which was Freddy’s consolation prize.

Freddy told himself that soon, so soon, it wouldn’t matter. Billy would have his own place, and Freddy would live for their time together in his bed, even if it was just a mattress on a floor, bugs crawling up the walls. Billy had started looking for places he could afford, and even out in the boonies, that kind of arrangement seemed to be what was on the menu. Everything was just so fucking expensive-- Not only the rent but the ultilities he’d have to pay, and the jobs in the areas where he could afford the rent weren’t great. Billy shrugged it off like he could just fly everywhere, no car payment necessary, but Freddy felt more and more like all the flying Billy had in mind was superhero-related, and there wouldn’t be much time for a mundane job. Even Freddy was bothered by the idea of Billy wasting time at a mind-numbing job just to make enough money to afford his own place, because working like that would comprise a huge chunk of Billy’s day to day life, and Philly needed Red Cyclone just as much as Freddy needed to sleep in Billy’s bed. 

If Freddy was being rational he could of course admit that Philly actually needed Cyclone much more than he needed Billy, at least in terms of the occasional life or death situation that Cyclone intervened in. Freddy only felt like he would die without Billy in his bedroom every night. He had to remind himself it wasn’t literal when he began to really worry about how smoothly or not this transitional period in their lives was going to go.

Things didn’t really start to unravel until Freddy got an email from one of his soon-to-be roommates at Penn State. He would share a quad with three other freshmen boys, each of them with their own bedroom, one bathroom and kitchen area shared between them. The guy who emailed him was Cillian, a skinny kid with glasses who lived in Oregon and was appointing himself as the social chair of their little dorm room, in the sense that he was trying to arrange a Skype call between all four of them prior to move-in, so they could “meet,” in a sense, before the big day. Freddy agreed to it, then did Facebook research on his soon-to-be-roommates. Billy watched from the top bunk, stretched out on his stomach and peering at the computer screen from under the wooden railing on the side of his bed.

“This guy has Superman stuff in his timeline,” Freddy said, trying to get Billy to respond in something other than a grunt. “Marcus, from Indiana. Weird that people actually live in Indiana.”

“No, it’s not,” Billy said, mumbling. “Don’t be a snob.”

“I was just kidding, jesus.” Freddy had thought Billy would appreciate him making fun of one of these dudes, as he clearly wasn’t into the idea of Freddy even casually bonding with them. He was radiating misery all the way from the top bunk.

Billy watched the actual Skype call, too, sitting on his bed and having established that Freddy was not allowed to mention he was there or show him on camera. He said nothing, and Freddy felt increasingly weirder about it as the call went better than he’d expected it to. It was like Penn State had matched them based on their shared nerdiness: Marcus was a superhero fanboy like Freddy, Cillian had asthma and a habit of awkwardly stating random weird facts about himself when the conversation lagged, and the third guy, Liam, seemed shrimpy and terrified, and laughed too loud at everybody’s attempts to be funny. Liam was also very cute, which didn’t particularly matter to Freddy, but he worried Billy would notice and dislike this.

“Okay, so, let’s bring up the elephant in the room,” Cillian said after they’d all established their mutual awkwardness and relaxed a little. “Four guys sharing a bathroom. What in the hell is that? I guess our dorm is older, or something? The newer ones at least have two bathrooms for four people!”

“Oh, I’m an expert in this,” Freddy said, raising his hand as if volunteering to handle the issue on behalf of the group. “At one point I shared a single bathroom with five other foster kids. You figure out a rhythm after a while, and you have to stick to it religiously or tensions flare real fast.” 

He almost glanced at Billy to give him a smile like: right? Then remembered he was supposed to pretend Billy wasn’t there, and didn’t.

“And, speaking of that,” Freddy said, because it hadn’t come up yet and he wasn’t sure how much they knew, though he suspected they’d done their Facebook research, too, “I’m, uh, a foster kid, about to be adopted by the family I’ve been with since I was twelve, and I have this.” He lifted the crutch to show it to them. “So if you guys want access to that sweet handicapped parking on campus, feel free to donate toward my car fund.” He’d planned this joke and felt it falling a little flat, but at least he’d said what he needed to, not wanting them to be surprised by the crutch or his sad sack backstory when he got there.

“I’m adopted, too,” Liam said, brightening in a way that seemed more sincere, less nervous.

“Oh yeah?” Freddy grinned, relieved to change the subject after his dumb joke. “Hey, high five.” 

Freddy flushed after this even dumber joke, hoping the heat on his cheeks wouldn’t show up on camera. Liam just smiled, looking so relieved that Freddy felt like a hero for having something in common with him.

When the call ended, Freddy turned away from the computer and braced himself for Billy’s commentary. Billy was sitting up in bed, giving Freddy a kind of vacant stare, expression blank. 

“So,” Freddy said, shrugging. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot of them, too, uh. Unless you’re opposed to visiting me at school.”

“Why would I be opposed to that?” 

Billy scowled, and Freddy realized that was the wrong thing to say in a big way. 

“I dunno, just kidding. What did you think of them?”

“They’re what I expected.”

“Which is what?” 

Billy shrugged, and for a moment looked so sad that Freddy reached for his crutch, wanting to hurry across the room and comfort him, but it was gone in a blink. 

“The kind of dorks who love school.” Billy smiled after saying so, but the comment still felt a little sharp and unkind. 

“Yep, like me,” Freddy said, hurt. He’d been so happy to have the call go well, to not have been bunked up with some snotty jock assholes or worse, and of course Billy had to squash this relief with resentment instantly. 

“I’m glad they seem nice,” Billy said, with obvious effort to be cool about this, which just annoyed Freddy in a different way. 

“When’s Batman going to interview us?” Freddy asked, to change the subject. Move in day was just three weeks away, and as apprehensive as he was about discussing his experience with Sivana, for hidden-identity reasons and others, he didn’t want to miss out. 

“I’ll ask Robin,” Billy said, and he got out of bed and left the room as if he was going to do so just then. 

He was actually just going down for dinner, but Freddy sat stewing in his seat and didn’t follow him. He turned back to the computer and opened up Liam’s Facebook page, searching for any evidence about why he’d been adopted. He supposed that wasn’t the sort of thing one posted about on Facebook. They could talk about it soon, he figured, in person. His chest ached, and he sat there for a long time after closing Liam’s page, feeling stuck and scared.

By the last week of July, things had gotten so weird and tense that Freddy knew what Billy was going to say when Freddy asked if he wanted help studying for his Chem II final. He’d avoided the subject for days because he was already braced for the truth.

Billy kept his back to Freddy after he’d asked about studying, and it felt like the air in their bedroom was an accelerant ready to be lit, everything about to burst into blames. Billy was squatting down in the process of tying his shoes, taking about ten times longer than he usually did to accomplish this. Freddy was stretched out in bed with his phone resting on his chest, queasy with dread.

“Uh, no,” Billy said when he straightened up. He swallowed and gave Freddy a look that was equal parts guilty and defensive, just like he’d expected. “I haven’t been to that stupid class in weeks. Actually, no. More like a month. Real shit has been going on, with the Titans, and--” 

“Okay, great.” Freddy was already on the verge of tears, trying to hide it. He’d figured this out based on how often Billy was staying out late on patrol without him, all night, till dawn. “Have you told Rosa and Victor that you’ve officially dropped out, then? Am I the last to know?”

“Of course they don’t fucking know.” Billy looked furious for a moment, then broken, like he was going to sink to his knees. He slumped back against the wall behind him instead. “They, they said. Remember, they want to have Mary and Pedro visit for my graduation? The one that isn’t happening? And that’s when they want to tell them that they want to adopt them, so. I fucked that up for everyone, just like everything else, but there’s no going back now.” He turned away from Freddy and put his elbows on the wall, head against his arms. “I knew this would happen,” he said, voice muffled. “Freddy. I don’t know what to do. You already hate me, so.”

“Oh my god, stop! Come here!”

Billy’s shoulders lifted toward his ears, but he didn’t otherwise move. Freddy grunted and shoved his phone away, grabbed for his crutch. He could hear the frantic pace of Darla’s footsteps as she ran up the stairs, but he didn’t care, whatever she was excited to tell them could wait.

Except that, this time, it really couldn’t.

“Freddy, Billy!” she cried, throwing the door open, something she hadn’t done in a long time. The horrified, frightened look on her face was such that Freddy hurried to stand, afraid something had happened to Rosa or Victor, who were both off at work. “It’s so, it can’t-- Did you see?”

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, hurrying to her, too. 

Darla burst into tears and shook her head. They couldn’t get it out of her, had to follow her down to the living room, where the breaking news was playing on TV. Freddy would later realize he’d gotten a news alert on his phone, that it had hit his phone just as he’d broken open the dam with Billy by asking about his class. 

News outlets were receiving reports that Batman was dead, murdered by an unknown assailant, no villains yet taking credit, and the more salacious of them were already running the reports that his secret identity had been revealed by the killer, who de-masked his victim and staged the body very publicly, exposing his face to the press. He was famous as a non-super, too, which made the news spread fast: Batman was Bruce Wayne, the multi-millionaire who owned Wayne Enterprises. 

At first, there was an edge of impossible untruth to the whole thing. Freddy sat between Billy and Darla on the couch, both of them close, all of them silent and wide-eyed, horrorstruck. When Darla could talk again, she kept saying it couldn’t be true, couldn’t be real. But as the hours went on and the news reports offered more grisly details, they all felt the way their lives had already changed settling onto their shoulders. Billy put his arm around Freddy and Darla and all three of them held together there while the world seemed to fall apart. 

“Can you get in touch with Robin?” Freddy asked, none of his usual angst about Billy’s doing so involved with this question. He just wanted to know, from a practical standpoint: as heroes, what the hell were they going to do next?

“I can go to the quarry later, but--” Billy shook his head. “I don’t know if he’ll be there. I have no idea what he must be doing, going through, I don’t even know if he’s safe--”

“You know Robin?” Darla said, her voice very small. 

Freddy gave her a squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “We know lots of heroes. We’ll-- Figure this out, we’ll bring whoever did this to justice.” 

Darla shook her head, not doubting this but seeming to suggest that even if they did, it wouldn’t fix this. None of them had ever really faced the fact that sometimes heroes lost, and that none were truly immortal. 

“Superman,” Freddy said, thinking of this. “Has he given a statement yet? That’s who the world needs to hear from right now, just. I wonder if he’s off fighting whoever did this, already?”

“I hope so,” Billy said, eyes hard, and when he met Freddy’s gaze, Freddy knew what he was thinking. Sivana. Batman had been investigating him. 

The rest of the day was an unhappy blur. Rosa came home from work early and gave Freddy special attention, as if he’d lost a friend. Freddy was too shocked to do anything but wait for nightfall, when he would go out in his super form and try to help Billy figure out what was going on. Billy kept close to Freddy and Darla until dusk, all of them watching the news until they couldn’t stand it anymore, the same information being repeated over and over. Freddy read superhero forums on his phone, everybody going crazy and spouting theories, some people claiming to have information, some true assholes pretending to be the killer, as if he’d be posting on superhero forums to identify himself. This became as exhausting as the TV news, and he put his phone away in lieu of just sitting there pressed between Darla and Billy, who were both quiet. When Victor got home, Billy sprang off the couch and said he had a shift.

“Want a ride?” Billy said, turning back to the couch, to Freddy. “To the comic shop?” he added, supplying a lie for him. “I saw they’re doing a vigil there. Might help with the, uh, processing this.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Freddy said, hurrying to follow him toward the front door. 

“It’s okay if I take the van to work, right?” Billy asked. “I just have a short shift. I can pick Freddy back up on the way home.” 

“Sure, honey,” Rosa said, crossing the room to give him a hug. “Just. Be careful. I know this happened in another city, but it feels-- So wrong, or, just. Like a bad cloud cast over the whole world.”

Freddy completely understood what she meant. He was shaken, like something that belonged to him personally had been ripped right out of his chest. It was something shaped like hope, or innocence. It didn’t help that people were starting to panic over Superman’s so-far silence. 

He climbed into the passenger seat beside Billy, so ready to be alone with him, away from the house, that he was afraid to even speak until Billy had pulled the van out of the driveway. 

“What is happening,” Freddy asked, as if Billy knew. It wasn’t a real question, more like an expression of plunging grief that he couldn’t see the bottom of yet. Billy shook his head and reached over to touch Freddy’s leg. 

“We’re gonna find out,” Billy said. “I’ll park the van at work and we can transform, try to find Robin or just, anyone, anyone who might know something.” 

As soon as they were in the air together, powered up and heading first for the quarry to see if Robin or any other Titans were around, Freddy felt different. It was like Batman’s murder had weakened both of them by proxy, though physically Freddy felt as strong and fast as he always did. He felt jumpy, all the same, in a way he never had before, and couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched and that they were vulnerable in mid-air, out over the open countryside as the sun went down on that terrible day.

Robin wasn’t at the quarry. They debated flying all the way to Gotham, but that seemed like the wrong move, and certainly they wouldn’t be welcome or wise to join the crowd around the exterior fence of Wayne Manor. There was already debate all over the internet that if Batman had been Bruce Wayne, Robin might be this or that person around Robin’s seeming age who had been seen with the reclusive millionaire over the years. He was in danger, and Billy was clearly upset about it. Freddy couldn’t fault him this, and hated that he didn’t know how to help. 

They flew back to Philly when darkness fell, and Freddy was glad for the rush of wind past his ears, the impossibility of conversation when they were moving at this speed and in general, because what could they even say to each other just now, about any of it? The fact that Billy quitting school had felt like the end of the world just hours ago was still there, like a little gash under Freddy’s heart, which was otherwise fully occupied with hurting for Batman, even for Robin, for the whole world that had lost a hero Freddy had loved since he was five years old.

In Philly there were vigils here and there, also a sense of foreboding, like everybody was waiting for some other shoe to drop. By then, darkness having cascaded over the eastern seaboard, what people were really waiting for was any word of comfort, authority, anything from Superman. 

“Something’s wrong,” Billy said, pacing across the roof of One South Broad, where they often went to get their bearings if something upsetting or otherwise draining happened during a patrol, when they weren’t ready to go home yet. 

“Obviously,” Freddy said, and he felt bad for the sharpness of his tone when Billy turned to him. 

“I meant beyond the obvious,” Billy said, also sharp. “Where is Superman?”

“You’re the one who hangs out with the Justice League--”

“I do not! I mean, not really--”

“Man, look. I know what you mean. It’s messed up, something’s going on. Something bad, beyond what we already know. I feel it, too. Let’s go home. You said you had a short shift, and it’s been four hours already. Darla will be wanting to see us, to know we’re okay. We’ll rest for a minute, then go out again later, okay?”

“You’re still willing to sneak out with me?” Billy asked, walking closer. 

Freddy rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to fight right now,” he said. “Not with you.” 

Billy crossed the space between them and pulled Freddy into his arms, hugging him hard. Freddy threw his arms around Billy, too, squeaking with relief and squeezing him tight. It felt good to hold each other while in super form, like a bit of armor from the rawness of what was going on in their mundane lives, and the hot summer wind blew Freddy’s cape up over both their heads while Billy’s flapped out in a near straight line behind him. 

“We should go,” Freddy said when he finally pulled back, his cape still flapping overhead like a little tent they were hiding inside. “People will be desperate for any sign of a superhero, and, I. I don’t know what to tell them.”

“We have to make an appearance,” Billy said. “Just something quick, just to say we’re working on it, that everything will be okay.” 

“But we don’t know that, and we don’t know where Superman is, which is the first thing people will ask. Later, okay? Let’s go home.”

Dinner had been put away by the time they got to the house, and Darla and Rosa were both in bed. Victor was headed that way, but he sat with them at the kitchen table before going up, watching them eat cold chicken and potatoes. 

“I keep checking this thing,” he said, putting his phone on the table. “Like it’s going to give me some answers. Kinda seems like, if somebody has some, they’re not feeding them to the news just yet. Feels creepy, like the whole world’s waiting.”

“Yeah,” Freddy said. “But I’m sure they’re working on it, uh. Behind the scenes. The superheroes, I mean. Sometimes it just has to stay secret for a while, until the coast is clear.” 

Freddy and Billy hurried up to their room after eating and sat together at the computer, checking the news and the forums and then their personal accounts when nothing new was being reported. Mary had sent Freddy a bunch of panicked messages on Facebook. Pedro and Eugene had both sent messages, too, essentially just asking Freddy if he knew what was going on.

“Why do they think I’m gonna have information?” Freddy said, feeling like a failure for not being able to tell them anything. 

“Because you’re our touchstone when it comes to this kind of stuff,” Billy said, ruffling Freddy’s hair. “Do you even want to go back out tonight? Everything feels-- On hold. Like we should wait and see what happens.”

This was out of character for Billy, but Freddy felt the same way. He also suspected that Billy wanted to talk about what they’d started to fight about before Darla burst in with the bad news, which made just going out in their super forms and avoiding the subject that much more tempting. 

When Freddy turned from the computer, Billy was sitting on the bottom bunk, looking at him with some combination of fear and desperation-- To be forgiven, Freddy figured. His throat was already getting tight with all the things he didn’t want to say. 

“Come here,” Billy said, soft. 

“Everything’s ruined,” Freddy said, starting to cry.

“No, hey, it’s not--” Billy looked like he knew this already, too. He moaned and got up, came to the desk chair and knelt down at Freddy’s feet, hugging his legs. Billy had tears in his eyes, too, and Freddy could feel Billy’s chest shaking, pressed tight to his knees. “Freddy,” Billy said, voice small. “I’m sorry, just. I skipped class one day to do hero stuff, and it was so hard to go back, and then, just. In my head, every day, it made sense. That I didn’t need to waste my time there. And I knew they wouldn’t report my absences to Rosa and Victor, ‘cause I’m over eighteen now and they can’t tell them about my attendance record without my consent. So, I just, I let it get out of control, but. Listen, I don’t need to finish high school. God, today proves that more than anything. Things are real for me now, as Cyclone.”

“That’s great,” Freddy said, wiping his face and shoving Billy away. “So just go be him and leave me in the dust, I guess.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re Bullet, and everyone in the press and on those stupid forums knows I’m in love with you. They can tell, they know we’re a matched set. Tomorrow, when we know more, we should make an appearance downtown together. It will lift everyone’s spirits, let them know things are gonna be all right.”

Freddy shook his head, though he did like the sound of that. He let Billy hug his legs again, didn’t push him away. 

“Poor Robin,” Freddy said, sincerely. “Has he contacted you?”

“No. How would he? He doesn’t exactly have my cell number or home address. I hope he’s okay.” 

They got into Freddy’s bed together and held each other, legs tangled together and faces close. Neither of them could sleep. Around three in the morning, Freddy let Billy kiss him: tentatively, like he was trying it for the first time. Billy coaxed his way past Freddy’s lips in slow stages, licking at him to get him breathing hard, making him hungry for it. Freddy closed his fist into Billy’s t-shirt and pulled on it like he wanted to rip it. He closed his eyes and let Billy roll on top of him, his arms winding around Billy’s neck when their kisses deepened. 

“Remember when you just did whatever I asked you to?” Freddy asked after they’d brought each other off with their hands, both taking a long time to finish because they were so overwhelmed and delirious. They were still lying together, Billy half on top of Freddy, his forehead pressed to Freddy’s cheek on the pillow. 

“No,” Billy said. “If I’d done what you asked, maybe I’d be better off, but. I never let you boss me around as much as you thought, Freddy. I just, I guess. I wanted to protect you from how shitty I can be, sometimes.” 

This sunk Freddy into utter panic, because what was Billy talking about? What else didn’t Freddy know? He elbowed his way out from underneath Billy’s weight and groped for his discarded boxer shorts.

“Better go up top,” Freddy said, avoiding Billy’s eyes. “Don’t want to fall asleep here.” 

Billy hesitated, like maybe he was going to decide that it didn’t matter anymore, then he kissed Freddy’s cheek and did as he asked, though not what he wanted.

A week later, there was still no word from or sign of Superman, and the media was completely consumed with his disappearance and with the still-unsolved murder of Batman. No one had come forward to claim responsibility. The revelation that Bruce Wayne had been Batman meant Robin was in hiding, his own identity compromised. He didn’t show up until the heroes-only memorial service for Batman, where he appeared in costume and almost immediately signalled Red Cyclone to come and speak to him in private. 

Billy grabbed Freddy’s wrist and brought him along. Freddy expected Robin to say that Bullet wasn’t invited to this conference, but he didn’t object, just beckoned them to follow him into a parlor room in the sprawling old mansion where the memorial was hosted. The mansion was out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in upstate New York. Heroes had to be personally escorted from their home cities. The Flash had come to collect Cyclone and Bullet from Philly.

“What is this place?” Freddy asked when Robin closed the door to the parlor room. Robin was pacing around with his arms crossed over his chest, hadn’t spoken yet. 

“This-- What?” Robin snapped. “It’s Wayne property. Have you two figured out who I am?”

“No,” Billy said. “It doesn’t matter--”

“Yes, it does, actually. I can’t be Robin anymore, after this. I’ve come up with a new hero name, suit, everything. I have to move fast.” 

“Fast?” Freddy said. “Who do you think--”

“Superman did it,” Robin said, stalking toward them. “I’m sure of it. When he shows up again? We’re all gonna be in big fucking trouble. Not just heroes. The whole world.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Freddy said, a nervous laugh that was totally inappropriate bubbling up out of him. Robin shot him a murderous glare. “No, just-- That’s-- Crazy?”

“Crazy, huh?” Robin moved toward Freddy, trying to get up in his face in a way that was a little comical, because of his height. “Maybe there’s some shit you don’t know about, Bullet. About the history between the two of them. You’re not exactly in the loop when it comes to the Justice League.” 

“Hey, okay,” Billy said, pulling them apart. “Robin, just. Let us know how we can help, okay?”

“Help me find Superman. He may be licking his wounds, if Bruce managed to-- It may be our only chance to stop him, before he returns to his full strength.” 

“Um, pardon my forwardness, but what about Sivana?” Freddy said. “Batman was investigating him when he died, yeah?”

“That investigation went nowhere,” Robin said, his eyes cutting back to Freddy’s in a way that he would always remember as the first time he felt a cold, suspicious energy from a fellow hero. 

There was a knock on the door before the conversation could go further. It was Black Canary, who had come to summon them for the start of the service. Robin stormed out without acknowledging her but headed in that direction. Canary gave Billy a look, and Freddy stood there watching while they embraced like old friends. Which was news to him. 

“It’s good to finally meet you,” she said to Freddy when she’d pulled out of Billy’s arms, after giving Billy a long, mournful look of what appeared to be fondness. She smiled uncertainly at whatever expression Freddy had his on his face. “I’m, um--”

“I know who you are.” Freddy threw his hand out for an awkward shake. “Yeah, good, uh. To see you. In person.”

She smiled kindly at his awkwardness and looked back to Billy. 

“I thought being around everyone would make things feel okay again,” she said. “But have you seen the way everyone is looking at each other, like-- With suspicion? Like someone here knows where he is and isn’t saying so?”

Billy nodded. By ‘he’ she meant Superman. Freddy hadn’t noticed that, but now that she mentioned it, the weird tension he’d felt as soon as they arrived made more sense. 

The rest of the memorial service was awful. Nobody really knew what to say or how to proceed. Robin sat alone, away from everyone, and refused to speak, left early. Freddy hung out on the sidelines while Billy made the rounds, obviously well-liked and at least somewhat known by most at the gathering. Freddy only knew The Flash, and every attempt at conversation that others made with him felt pitying. He hated how intimidated he still felt by these heroes, this world, and hated how much he resented seeing Billy fit right in. 

He wished above all that Superman would show up and make everything okay again.

Freddy and Billy flew back toward home around sunset. Freddy was so lost in his own miserable thoughts that he didn’t notice Billy had pulled up short behind him until Billy called out to him, using his hero name.

“Seriously?” Freddy said, whirling back and flying to him. “What are you doing?”

“Just, wait a minute--”

“Why? I just want to be home. That was fucking miserable.” 

“Yeah. Robin is-- Not okay. I have no clue where that rant about Superman came from. He’d never mentioned to me, uh. Anything about whatever went on between him and Batman.”

Freddy shrugged one shoulder. Billy was giving him the sad eyes. For the first time in a while, Freddy had no idea what Billy wanted from him.

“You didn’t feel comforted?” Freddy said. “Being around the others? Your friends?”

“Hell no, everyone was so shaken. I don’t know, you’re right. Let’s just go home.”

Freddy almost regretted suggesting this, because maybe Billy wanted to fly down to the wilderness below, sit in a tree, and finally try shocking Freddy with the lightning for erotic purposes? Freddy laughed darkly under his breath as they flew together in silence, thinking, hey: now was as good a time as ever for that kind of fucked up experimentation. Because how could things get worse.

When Freddy got an email from Cillian later that week, suggesting another Skype call between the four soon-to-be-roommates, he was so relieved that his fingers shook when he replied that yes, he would be into that. It was the first thing that had felt unburdened by heavy horror since Batman’s death. There was still no word from Superman, the media was going nuts with nonstop speculation about why, and Billy still hadn’t fessed up to Rosa and Victor that he wouldn’t be graduating. Freddy told himself it was none of his business how Billy decided to handle that. Billy had made it his secret, so he’d have to deal with the fallout on his own. 

“Going out,” Billy said when Freddy was loading Skype for this second call. 

“Wait-- What?” Freddy said, turning to see Billy heading for the bedroom door. He didn’t need to go out the window anymore, came and went as he pleased. “You mean as Cyclone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait for me, okay? This will only take an hour.”

“Last time it took longer.” Billy half-smiled and tried to act like that had been a casual comment, no resentment in it. “Just meet me when you’re done,” he said, lifting his shoulder. 

“How will I find you?”

“I’ll be the guy in a red costume, with a white cape, flying around the city.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Freddy said, and it came out sharper than he’d intended. “Man, whatever. Do what you want. My call’s starting.”

“Great, have fun.”

“Yeah, you too. Asshole,” he added, muttering this under his breath just loud enough for Billy to hear.

Billy slammed the door when he left. Freddy tried to put a not-furious face on for his call, determined to lose himself in this other world that was all his, where he didn’t have to carry all the baggage that Billy was determined to load onto both of them. 

The Skype call went on for three hours, in part because they were discussing the Batman murder, who might be responsible and where Superman might be. People didn’t have to be superhero buffs to find the whole thing fascinating and scary and to follow its developments closely, so Marcus and Freddy weren’t the only ones with strong opinions. Freddy had to be careful not to imply he knew anything that only Bullet would know, but he could tell he was exuding an air of authority on the subject and enjoyed it when the others listened closely to his theories and seemed to agree with him that of course Superman was working on finding and stopping the killer, was nowhere near responsible for it, and would be back soon.

Freddy felt guilty a few times for how much liked it when Liam seemed to smile directly at him, then remembered how Billy and Black Canary had looked at each other and felt less guilty. 

He was brushing his teeth when he heard Billy’s footsteps in the hallway, had given up on the idea of going out as Bullet and zipping around the city alone, seeking his other half. He rinsed his toothbrush and walked into the bedroom, feeling both like he should apologize and like he deserved an apology, and unable to put his finger on why, exactly, in either case. 

“I waited for you,” Billy said his back to Freddy while he undressed, pitching his clothes into the hamper. “Guess you were too busy talking to your new friends?”

“Actually, you didn’t wait for me, I asked you to--”

“I meant-- Jesus, never mind.”

“Did anything happen?”

“Not really.” Billy turned and gave Freddy the sad eyes. “I mean, yeah, but. I’m sworn to secrecy about it, for now.” 

Freddy scoffed. “What? You mean-- You know something? About Batman?”

“No, no-- Well. It’s related to that, but it’s not about the murder. Fuck, forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Because you don’t trust me.”

“No! Freddy, it’s just Robin’s new superhero identity, that’s all. We met up, and he told me, so. But he said don’t tell anyone, and-- I know you don’t really want to hear me talk about him, anyway.” 

“Yes, I do. But that’s fine, you can keep Robin’s new name a secret if you think I’m gonna go around and, what? Tell all my friends at college, ‘cause that’s the kind of thing I’d do?”

“It’s Nightwing!” Billy said, hissing this out and glaring at Freddy. “There, okay? I broke his trust to prove to you that-- God! I fucking hate this. I’m going to bed.”

Billy brushed past Freddy on the way there. Freddy grabbed Billy’s arm, and as soon as Billy turned back to face him, Freddy knew they were going to fuck and that it was going to be different from all the other times they had. 

Rosa and Darla were both asleep and Victor was out, working a late shift, so they didn’t break Rule 1, but it felt like they were breaking some other rule when they fell onto each other and sunk to the floor, not even moving toward the bed. Billy straddled Freddy and pinned him, eyes hard and angry when he lunged in for a kiss. Even the kiss was violent: they bit each other’s lips, groaned at the back of their throats and bucked together like they were both struggling to get the upper hand. It felt good, especially when Freddy managed to knock Billy off him and onto his back. 

Freddy rolled Billy toward the bed, in reach of the lube that they kept stashed under his mattress. He decided he was going to fuck Billy on his back, which almost never happened and always left Freddy’s leg aching. He didn’t care: he wanted to hurt. Physical pain was better than the thing he’d been living with for weeks, even before Batman died, this looming dread of the future and his growing certainty that it wasn’t going to be the one he’d naively planned for.

Billy arched into the feeling of Freddy filling him, groaning like he’d been dying for it. His legs came up to wrap around the small of Freddy’s back and keep him in place, deep inside. They were both half-dressed, pants shoved down, and doing this on the floor meant Freddy’s knee was hurting right away. He didn’t give a fuck about that or anything but driving into Billy and watching him fall apart for the feeling, pushing his hands up under his t-shirt to touch himself while Freddy fucked him hard. 

“Yeah,” Billy said when he was close, when Freddy gripped his cock, wanting to feel him come while Freddy was still inside him. “Fuh, fuck, yes-- Fuck me like you own me,” Billy whispered, eyes flashing when they locked on Freddy’s. “You fucking brat, you fuh, fucking-- _Nnn_ h-- Lunatic.” 

“As long as you take it like a greedy slut,” Freddy said, squeezing Billy’s cock.

Billy came for being called that, bringing his hand up to his mouth and whimpering against his palm while he spilled over Freddy’s fingers. 

They were gentle with each other afterward, a little embarrassed and laughing at themselves while stretched out together in Freddy’s bed. Billy held Freddy’s bad leg against his chest and rubbed his knee, knowing it was aching. His touch was soft and aimless and didn’t really do anything to relieve the pain, but it felt good, at the same time, to know he wanted to. 

“Sorry,” Freddy said, mumbling. “I should have met you out in the city, shouldn’t have stayed on that call so long--”

“It’s fine. I knew I was gonna piss you off by going off alone. I did it on purpose.”

“Mhm.”

They were quiet, breathing together and stroking each other’s skin here and there. When their eyes met again, Freddy could see how scared Billy was, too, about whatever came next. 

“Stay in my bed,” Freddy said, pronouncing this like a command rather than an invitation or request. 

“I am,” Billy said, his hand going still on Freddy’s knee. “I’m right here.” 

“I meant--”

“I know what you meant, but I’m gonna tell them about not finishing school soon, so the timing really isn’t great for me to get caught in your bed, Freddy.” 

Freddy rolled over, away from him. He closed his eyes and let Billy spoon him and kiss his neck, and pretended to be asleep when felt Billy climb over him after a while, headed up to his own bed. 

Rosa took Freddy shopping for dorm room supplies the following day. Darla went with them, excited to give her input on color and design choices, though Freddy mostly rejected her suggestions and went with his own aesthetic. It was fun, except that Billy wasn’t there, and Freddy couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

“You’re so quiet,” Rosa said on the drive home, reaching over to give Freddy’s arm a squeeze. “Nervous?”

“Not really,” Freddy said, though of course he was. “It’s been good getting to know the guys who’ll be in my room. We talked for like three hours last night, on Skype.” 

“Oh, wow.” Rosa smiled vaguely at the windshield, seemed to be wondering if she should say more. “How’s Billy handling everything?” she asked. “He seems so-- Hmm--”

“Depressed,” Darla volunteered. “Poor Billy.” 

“Hey, now, he’s not that bad off,” Rosa said, looking at Darla in the rearview. “I don’t think? I mean, is he worried about whether or not he passed his final? When do summer school grades come out? They don’t tell us anything, now that he’s eighteen.”

“He doesn’t tell me anything about it either,” Freddy said, his heart pounding. He hated lying to her. “So. I dunno.”

Rosa got quiet then, because of course she knew that Freddy and Billy not talking about the Chem II class was a bad sign. 

Everything came out that night, with Billy in tears at the kitchen table, Darla and Freddy upstairs and pretending not to distantly eavesdrop. They were in Darla’s room, playing a board game on the floor, and had shut the door to give Billy privacy, but the walls of the house were thin and they picked up on most of the conversation, which was a lot of tearful apologizing from Billy and a lot of Rosa and Victor saying it would be all right but that they were disappointed that he’d lied to them and blown off the class and high school graduation as if it wasn’t important. 

“They’re making me quit the hardware store,” Billy said when Freddy came into their room after giving him some alone time there. Billy was in the top bunk, red-eyed and deflated, lying on his back. “I didn’t even tell them that’s another lie,” he said, turning his cheek toward Freddy when he stood there with his chin on the bunk’s wooden railing. “I quit the store already, too.” 

“Why?” Freddy asked, feeling so lost, like he’d woken up in a bad dream and he couldn’t find his way out of it.  

Billy shrugged and rolled over, away from him. More secrets, Freddy assumed, so suddenly sad for Billy that he couldn’t get mad about it. He touched Billy’s back, and rubbed his fingers over Billy’s t-shirt when he didn’t flinch away. Billy sighed. 

“I love you,” Freddy said, making his hand into a fist at the base of Billy’s spine. “Let me help.”

“I just need to think,” Billy mumbled, and then, as an afterthought that came a little too late to mean much to Freddy, “I love you, too.” 

Freddy woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Billy sneaking out of the room. He couldn’t get back to sleep afterward, just lay there wondering if he should go out and transform, if he should look for Billy or just let him have his space. Indecision kept him paralyzed until he drifted off thinly, and when he woke up again it was to the sound of Billy hoisting himself in the top bunk and settling there. Freddy could feel that Billy was awake and that he knew Freddy was, too. Neither of them spoke. Later Freddy would decide they both knew already, in their bones, that this was the dawn of the last day they would see or speak to each other for months, the day when everything would change. 

The fight happened that afternoon. Freddy slept late, and when he woke up Billy was gone again. It was a hot, cloudless day, the third of August. In less than two weeks, Freddy would be at Penn State for freshmen orientation. 

He had no idea where Billy would be by then. They had stopped looking online for cheap apartments near the school. If Billy had quit the hardware store, he clearly didn’t care about saving more money, and no one would rent to him, anyway, if he didn’t have a full time job. He was eighteen years old with no high school diploma, no plan, and no way to explain to their parents that he had an amazing, important other life, because anything they ever knew about the super forms would put them in danger, and the world felt more dangerous for heroes than ever. 

Superman was still missing, and Batman’s killer was still at large. Freddy couldn’t bear the TV news or the internet, and he spent the morning alone, listlessly playing video games. Rosa and Victor were both at work, Darla at her day camp. The quiet of the usually bustling house unnerved him. He was almost never there all by himself. It felt like everything was coming to an end, the whole world folding in around him, and like his dream of going to college and being someone people there might like and respect was just that, a dream, something that would collapse along with the rest of it. 

Billy came home around two o’clock. Freddy hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. His stomach was twisted up, and he didn’t understand why until Billy strode into the living room and saw Freddy sitting on the couch in sweatpants and one of Billy’s t-shirts. The shirt was too big for Freddy, and he felt stupid for wearing it when their eyes met and he saw Billy registering this. He felt like they were already on opposite sides of some massive wall, and, much worse: like they always had been, and were only understanding it now. 

“Where have you been?” Freddy asked, laughing unhappily when he heard himself sounding like a jealous wife.

“Just making some arrangements,” BIlly said. He glanced toward the stairs. “Where is everybody?”

“Work and day camp. What arrangements?”

“I’m gonna stay with-- With Robin, for a while. Nightwing, I mean.”

Freddy’s heart plummeted. He nodded and made himself look at the TV screen, sniffing hatefully at the animated GAME OVER message that was still flickering there from his last defeat.

“Come upstairs,” Billy said. “We should talk.”

“Why can’t we talk here.”

“Please, Freddy. I want to explain myself, okay?” 

Freddy turned the game off and followed him upstairs, feeling like he was trudging toward his execution. He kept trying to make himself accept what Billy had said, that he was going to live among heroes while Freddy went off to college like a child. It seemed obvious now that this was always going to happen, and Freddy felt so stupid that it made him angry, livid. He wasn’t ready to turn that anger on himself yet, was too fragile. He sat on his bed and crossed his arms over his chest, shrugged. Billy left their bedroom door open, so this wasn’t a conversation that was going to involve angry sex, Freddy gathered.

“I have to tell you something,” Billy said. He looked scared, nervous. “And you’re going to be mad, but I need you to trust me.” 

“I’m already mad, so, just. Fucking whatever. I don’t care. What.”

“Freddy.” Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaled when he opened them. He was standing on the other side of the room, keeping his distance like he needed to stay out of striking range. “These past couple of days, Robin-- Nightwing, fuck. He’s really needed a friend. He’s a fucking mess. And, for some reason, it seems like I’m the only person who can make him feel better.” 

“Hah, I wonder why.”

Billy frowned. “What does that mean? No-- It’s not, like. That. Jesus, Freddy. He just lost his mentor, his father figure. You don’t even know how close they were, not just as-- Look, I’m gonna tell you something, okay, and you have to swear to keep it a secret.” 

“I swear,” Freddy said, flatly.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I. Why do you think I’m so ready to go spreading your secrets around town, huh? When have I ever done that to you?”

Billy nodded to himself. He was fidgeting his hands against his sides, chewing his lip.

“Okay, um. Nightwing told me his secret identity. The one he had to become Nightwing to protect, because Robin was tied to Batman and his identity was tied to Bruce Wayne’s, though not many people knew. But some people did, so. He’s-- Dick Grayson, that’s his name. Bruce Wayne took him in when he was a teenager, after a villain killed Dick’s parents. Dick found out about Bruce being Batman, and that’s when Batman took him on as an apprentice hero. Anyway, um. Bruce was like a father to him. Dick is fucking devastated and obsessed with this idea that Superman did it, and he really needs a friend right now.”

“Why would I be mad at you about this,” Freddy asked, waiting for the rest. “I’m not going to flip out on you just for making a friend.”

Billy raised his eyebrows a little, like: oh no?

Freddy sniffed and looked away. He was holding on to the mattress with both hands, fingers clawed into it like he was going to start ripping chunks out with his bare hands. This was the mattress where they first held each other, where they lost their virginity to each other, and spent so many nights covering each other’s mouths with their hands because they were laughing so hard, so happy together that it was impossible to hold it in. Sitting there waiting for Billy to drop the bomb that came next, Freddy already had a hard time believing this bed was the site of so much giddy joy. In the moment it felt like the grave he would drop into after Billy delivered the killing blow.

“So, um,” Billy said, his voice soft in a way that could mean nothing good. “I told him, too. Who I am. My identity, my real name.”

Freddy had to turn this over in his mind a few times before it really sunk in. 

“What,” he said, coming to his feet without the crutch. He held on to the railing of Billy’s bed for support. “No, you. You didn’t. You couldn’t have.”

“It’s-- Why not?” Billy’s face went white, because he fucking knew why not.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Freddy shouted, glad no one else was home so he could unload his rage at full volume. “Do you know what this means? Of course you do, because you’re standing over there looking guilty as fuck. You _betrayed_ me, Billy! All of us-- Mary, Pedro, Eugene. Darla! You sold us all out to this unhinged person we barely know!”

“I know him!” Billy said, the color coming back to his face. “I’m not some clueless idiot, Freddy! I know who I can trust, okay? He told me his identity-- What was I supposed to do in response? Reject Batman’s trusted apprentice, tell him that was a bridge too far? What’s wrong with confiding in another hero? It’s not like I told him the other bolt-marked supers are my siblings! I said nothing about you guys--”

“How hard do you fucking think it will be for him to put it together, you thoughtless asshole!”

Maybe thoughtless sounded too much like _stupid_ , but Freddy didn’t care. This was beyond the pale, his worst nightmare.

Billy walked in a circle, pushing his hands through his hair and breathing hard. 

“Maybe it wasn’t fair to you and our siblings, fine,” he said when he turned back to Freddy, eyes blazing like he had some reason to be furious, too. “But Dick is a good person, and he’ll protect our secret. And talking to him, like that-- It was the first time in forever when I didn’t feel so fucking alone.”

“Alone?” Freddy reared back, could feel how mean his expression was but couldn’t seem to change it. “What, ‘cause I don’t count?”

“Being with you makes me feel that way more than anything! Because you’re leaving, Freddy, and it’s like you’re already gone.” 

“You’re insane,” Freddy said, hating that he needed to grab for the cane, his leg starting to shake. He wanted to have this fight in super form, would rather exchange literal blows and throw each other through walls. “All I’ve done all summer is be here for you.” 

Billy scowled. “Oh my god, do you actually think that? Are you for fucking real right now?”

“Where the hell have I been but here, waiting for you to show back up every time you run off without me!”

“ _I_ run off without _you_?” Billy’s eyebrows shot up and he tried to force a laugh. “Wow, really? Maybe it was a betrayal to tell Dick my name, but you betrayed me first, Freddy.” 

“Jesus, _what_? How?”

“I’ve tried to make myself get over it, but I can’t,” Billy said, eyes hard. “Your whole thing about how I got to pick you over those idiots at school, and you didn’t get the chance, and college is your way of finding out if you really want to pick me over the rest of the world. It’s been lodged in my chest like a fucking knife ever since you said it. All I can think about, every day, more and more, is you telling me you need to go off and see what else is out there for you, since high school only gave you me.”

Part of Freddy wanted to run to Billy and throw his arms around him then, and maybe if he had, things would have been different. 

“You’re completely twisting everything I tried to explain,” he said, holding his ground near the bed. “I said-- I remember this-- I said I’d pick you over anything!” 

Billy made a gut-punched noise and shook his head, stepping backward when Freddy moved toward him. 

“If that was true,” he said. “You would have done it.” 

Freddy stood there speechless. Was Billy asking him to give up college? No, that fight was already over. The whole thing was over, clearly. Billy was only telling Freddy why he was leaving. That was all that remained before: bam. The end.

“You’d rather go have some mundane college experience than be a hero with me, or be with me, period,” Billy said. “Why the fuck are you so determined to prove that you’re normal, Freddy? Don’t you see how small and sad that is, with everything we have? You’re not normal, you’re exceptional! And you won’t even let yourself see it.” 

“Oh, so is this my invitation to give up my scholarship and move into Wayne Manor with you and Batman’s orphan son?” 

Freddy scoffed when Billy glanced at the door like he wanted to run away from that question. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go ahead and let yourself off the hook, Billy, sure, everything’s my fault, I’m just so cruel that I drove you into the arms of some wealthy weirdo who’s making all kinds of promises and getting you to give up your secrets like a good little minion. I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with you thinking you’re too good for real life and that I’m a stupid sucker for trying to finally make it on my own and not just rely on someone new to swoop in and take care of me.” 

Billy cut his eyes to Freddy’s, and Freddy knew he’d gone too far.

Good, Freddy thought, his eyes glazing over with angry tears. He’d wanted to.

“You know what,” Billy said, and he went to the dresser, grabbing his backpack on the way there. “This is good,” he said, yanking open the top drawer. He dumped his neglected school materials out of the backpack and started stuffing it with clothes. “Because, you know, our whole codependency thing? It hasn’t been healthy for a while now, so. We’re both fucking miserable at this point, trying to maintan it, and for what? We need to be apart for a while, to become actual people and not just this-- Melted-together mess.” 

“Sure, yeah, totally,” Freddy said, voice barely working when Billy turned to him, sad-eyed. “Let’s just end this _codependency_ experiment, you’re right, Billy, wow, what a disaster. But, hey, one more thing? Just remember, when you look back on this and realize it was all your fault, that you wrecked everything for no reason? Remember that I’ll _never_ forgive you. Even if we’re civil to each other for our family’s sake, even if we’re friends again someday, even if I smile at you and it seems like I’m fine? Just know that, underneath all that? I’ve never forgiven you or forgotten that you did this. Never. So don’t you ever fucking ask me to.”

“Fuck this,” Billy said, his voice breaking in a way that almost made it sound like he would laugh. 

He threw the backpack down, went to the open window, said the word and flew away.

Freddy didn’t watch him go. He sank to his bed, shaking all over, afraid he would have a seizure for how suddenly sick and unsteady he felt, his hands tremoring with a combination of rage and anguish that felt like it couldn’t be contained in a human body, like it was going to rip him apart from within. 

He told himself not to cry, that he wasn’t going to cry over this, that doing so would only make him feel so much worse. He slapped himself in the cheek when the tears came anyway. It didn’t work. He just cried harder.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been pathetically weeping into his pillow when he heard the front door open downstairs. He lifted his face and almost made it to his bedroom door before Darla, but she was fast, and Freddy was slow.

“Freddy?” Her little face fell when she saw his: puffy, tear-soaked, broken. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh-- Shit.” Freddy wiped at his cheeks. “I mean-- Sorry, fuh-- Did I forget, ah, to pick you up? What-- What time is it?”

“I got a ride home from Kimmie’s mom,” Darla said. “They sent me and Kimmie home early, um, there was a glitter fight situation, it wasn’t my fault-- Rosa sent you a text, you didn’t see it?”

“I--” Freddy turned hopelessly back toward his room, not even sure where his phone was.

“Freddy, what’s wrong? Do you need a hug?”

Darla threw her arms around him without waiting for an answer, and Freddy lost his shit again, tears pouring down his face. Darla felt it when he started quaking with sobs. She moaned sympathetically and squeezed him harder. Freddy hugged her back, embarrassed by how badly he needed it.

“Did something happen with Billy?” Darla asked when she lifted her face, looking like she might cry, too. 

Freddy couldn’t make his voice work well enough to answer that question. He let Darla pull him into his room by the hand, over to his bed, and sat there with her. Darla put her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his back when he crumpled forward, sobbing into his hands like an idiot, hating that he couldn’t get himself to stop.

“I know,” Darla said, sniffling. “I saw you, um. Freddy, I have to tell you something.” 

“What?” Freddy lifted his face, his tears pausing for a moment of sheer horrified shock, because what did she mean-- “You saw me?”

Darla blinked out a few tears of her own, lifted her glasses and wiped at her eyes. “I’ve been lying to you,” she said, whispering, her voice just a sad little shake. “I turn into her, sometimes. My grown-up self, and I do hero stuff-- Small stuff! Just helping people, um. I’m sorry. Freddy. I feel real bad about it, but. I always want to be her. She’s so strong and amazing, it feels mean to not let her help people.”

“She’s you,” Freddy said, putting his arm around her. “Not some other person. You’re that amazing person, already. But, Darla, it’s so dangerous, you can’t--”

“I know, I know. I won’t do it anymore, I promise.” She sniffled and let Freddy wipe away some tears. “Since what happened to Batman-- It scared me so much, Freddy. Why did that have to happen to him?” 

They both sniffled and held each other for a while, Freddy not sure what to say except:

“You said you-- Saw me?” He pulled back and was finally able to get tears to stop coming. “Doing what?”

“Oh, um.” Darla pulled at the hem of her dress and gave Freddy a nervous glance. “You and Billy, when you were out being heroes. One night when I was being one, too, sneaking around and making sure you guys didn’t see me. But I saw you, um. Kissing Billy, that night. When he was Cyclone, and you were Bullet.”

“Oh god.” Freddy put his hands over his face. “Fuck. Sorry, I mean-- Darla--”

“You looked happy,” she said, smiling a little. “I thought, um. You looked so happy, just smiling at each other after you kissed. Like they say on the forums. Like you’re in love.”

And it turned out Freddy hadn’t stopped crying after all, because his eyes burned and filled and overflowed again.

“You had a fight?” Darla asked, reaching up to help Freddy dry his eyes. 

“No,” Freddy said, because it was worse than that. “Everything’s fine, just. He’s going to go live with some other heroes. I guess I’m jealous, that’s all.”

“Oh, Freddy. You’re going to college, though! It’s going to be great. And Billy will come visit you, don’t worry.” She patted Freddy’s hand like everything was solved, though she could certainly see on his face that it was anything but. “It’ll be okay,” she said. Her voice was shaking again, like she knew, too: not really.

“I hate asking you to keep my secrets,” Freddy said. “But Billy really doesn’t want Rosa and Victor to know about me and him, um. Kissing. Especially since they’re going to adopt us. And, anyway, we’re not going to do that anymore. Me and Billy are just going to be friends from now on, okay?”

“Why?” Darla was frowning, looked confused. “All the forums say Bullet and Cyclone are each other’s true love.” 

“Well, what do they know? That’s just internet gossip, Darla. We decided not to do that other stuff aymore, so. That’s done, so please don’t mention that it ever happened, okay? Not to Mary or anyone else either.” 

“You don’t love each other like that anymore?” 

“Darla, I really-- Don’t want to talk about it. But you see what I’m saying, right? About why it’s got to be a secret?”

“Duh.” She grinned and shrugged. “I’ve learned how to keep secrets,” she said.

Freddy almost started crying again, hearing that, but managed to hold himself together.

Billy called Rosa that night, explaining that he was staying with a friend who was going through a crisis and needed company, someone he’d met through a support group for children who’d lost their biological parents. He claimed he’d been attending these meetings in secret for years. Freddy laughed bitterly at this utter bullshit when Rosa repeated what Billy had said to her. As if Billy would ever set foot in a support group voluntarily. 

“Did you know?” Rosa asked. They were at the dinner table, everybody on edge. Freddy had washed his face with cold water and had rested for a while with cucumber slices that Darla had cut for him over his eyes, but it was probably still obvious that he’d cried his heart out earlier. 

“I did not know,” Freddy said, after weighing which answer he should give. “But I’ve met this friend he’s staying with. Billy’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rosa glanced at Victor like she wasn’t sure she believed this. Victor sighed. 

“I miss him already,” he said.

“Me too,” Darla said. 

She and Rosa looked at Freddy as if they hoped he might chime in. Freddy just pushed carrots around on his plate and avoided their eyes.

The four of them drove to Penn State together the following week, everything Freddy was bringing to college packed into the van. Arriving at the dorm room was a bittersweet experience: Freddy was enormously relieved to be away from the bedroom he’d shared with Billy, which had felt like it was killing him slowly with every night that Billy didn’t return or attempt to contact him at all. At the same time, he was jumpy with the feeling of knowing Rosa and Victor were going to drive away with Darla and leave him there, by himself. 

“You’re going to do so great,” Rosa said when this departure was imminent, holding Freddy’s face.

“These guys seem pretty cool,” Victor added, also teary, gesturing vaguely at the roommates who were saying goodbye to their parents, too, everybody trying to hold it together and seem like a tough guy. 

Freddy didn’t feel like crying. He felt stuck between too many emotions to fully experience any of them, and had been increasingly numb since his fight with Billy, staying sane by not letting himself feel much of anything. He only got choked up when he hugged Darla goodbye, because she promised him in a whisper that she would be good, which meant she wouldn’t transform. It made him sad that the world was too evil to allow her to do so safely. He hadn’t even called the lightning for himself since Billy called it to their window and flew away. The feeling of transforming was too bound up with how Billy had made him feel: electric, special, unstoppable. He was terrified that all that would be gone along with Billy if he transformed again, and kept postponing it. 

The distraction of freshman orientation and the constant chatter and company of his roommates brought Freddy back to life a little at a time, and once classes began he had even more reasons to think about something other than Billy and what he was doing. Still, at night, alone in bed, he had trouble sleeping and often pulled his phone out to scan for news of Cyclone’s recent activities. He would have to put it away when he inevitably ran across someone lamenting that Cyclone was never with Bullet anymore. Cyclone’s first appearance with Nightwing, a diminutive hero who wore all black and couldn’t fly, was cause for speculation that Bullet and Cyclone had ‘broken up.’ 

A picture of Red Cyclone giving Black Canary an assist flight on his back during a confrontation with some minor villain, her long legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping his chest, started a whole new set of rumors about those two having a particularly hot and heavy affair, and they quickly became Philly’s favorite super couple to speculate about. 

So much for true love, Freddy thought. At the first real college party he went to with his roommates he got drunk and let a guy with a French accent blow him. It was okay, a hazy memory that made him feel weird. At one point, also while drinking, he almost tried to kiss Liam but ultimately chickened out, which ended up being a huge relief, as Liam had a tiny, adorable girlfriend within three days of this incident. 

Freddy decided he wouldn’t date, since his emotional bandwidth for relationships felt drained for life. He developed a policy of only fooling around casually when the opportunity arose, and was surprised how often guys wanted him, crutch and all. Everyone at college seemed raring to go for anything, desperate for new experiences. Freddy stuck to sloppy makeouts at parties and the occasional blow job, not trusting anyone with more than that and rarely doing any of it with the same person twice. None of it was anywhere near as good as it had been with Billy, so every experience left him newly depressed about the heart he’d recklessly given away too soon, no take-backs.

He transformed on the weekends and kept to the suburbs, avoiding the city. People were glad to see Bullet back on the scene. He kept his distance, waving from afar, never allowing for interviews. Transforming didn’t feel shallow and empty the way he’d feared it would, without Billy at his side, but it also didn’t feel quite the same. He felt small and obscure within the superhero world. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, which were frequent, he’d perch somewhere on campus in the Bullet costume, staying out of sight to hide the fact that Bullet had a connection to Penn State. He watched for trouble, sometimes with a school assignment open in his lap, and mostly helped drunk kids get home safely, hoping they would think it had been a dream when they came to in the morning, if they remembered at all.

Cillian gave Freddy a ride home to Philly for his first visit during the fall break in October, and it felt weird to be back, almost wrong. He learned that Dick Grayson had come to dinner and introduced himself as Billy’s roommate. Their story was that they worked together at the lumberyard that was part of the Wayne Enterprises family of companies. Rosa said Billy seemed happy and that Dick was nice, if maybe a little eccentric and hard to follow at times.

“He talked a lot,” she said. “But at the end of the night we all agreed that we still didn’t feel like we knew what his deal was, exactly.”

Freddy said nothing, barely able to register this because he was still stuck on that bit about Billy seeming happy without him. 

Among the topics discussed during that first home visit was the plan for everyone’s adoptions. Darla’s would take some time to process, and since all the other kids were over eighteen, their adoptions would be much simpler, really just a matter of each of them telling the state that it was what they wanted. For this reason, Rosa and Victor suggested waiting until Darla’s had gone through, so they could all celebrate together when it was made official for everyone.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if it happened around Christmastime?” Darla said, reaching over to squeeze Freddy’s wrist at the dinner table, probably sensing that he needed it. 

“Yeah.” Freddy tried to smile for her sake, but he felt queasy at the thought of seeing Billy again, even under those circumstances. It would be excruciating, he knew.

The week before Thanksgiving break, Freddy was in a state of near-constant nausea because of school stress combined with the dread of seeing Billy at home for the holiday. He tried to tell himself that Billy might not even show, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Billy wouldn’t hurt Rosa and Victor like that, not to mention Darla, and Mary and Pedro would be home, too, wanting to see him. Freddy’s greatest fear was that Billy would have the gall to bring Dick along with him like an emotional support animal, making everything a hundred times worse. 

He was studying alone in his room when someone knocked on his bedroom door. Freddy figured it was probably Cillian trying to distract himself from his own work by offering to treat him to lunch, and he barely looked up after he told him to come in. 

“What?” Freddy said, in the middle erasing some math he’d done wrong. 

“Your roommate let me in.”

The sound of Billy’s voice was like a warm tongue across the back of Freddy’s neck, lighting every nerve in his body up with a dumb, white hot glee just before it snapped back around to terror. 

They stared at each other. Freddy was still seated at his desk, wide-eyed. Billy looked sad and exhausted. He shut the door behind him and stood there, sheepish. 

“I can’t live like this,” Billy said, shaking his head. “Freddy.”

Freddy was so overcome that he legitimately forgot the cane when he bolted out of his chair to get to Billy as fast as possible, the lack of it causing him to tumble embarrassingly into Billy’s arms as they crashed together in the middle of the room, somehow already kissing.

Or maybe it wasn’t kissing so much as breathing hard and lapping crazily at each other’s mouths, both of them out of practice and desperate. They stumbled against and then onto the bed, and Freddy yanked Billy on top of him, not even caring if his roommates heard him moan for how good Billy’s weight and heat felt against his body, pressing him down. It was incredible, the massive reach of his relief as his cock got hard and he spread his legs around Billy, welcoming him back where he belonged. Nothing else he’d done since arriving at college touched this feeling. Not weed or booze and certainly not other people. 

“Wanna fuck you,” Billy said, his teeth grazing Freddy’s ear when he said so, both hands pushing up under Freddy’s sweater with insistant need. “Hard. Wanna fuck you so hard, Freddy, it’s all I think about.”

“Yes, yes, _yeah_.” Freddy nodded and ground his dick up against Billy’s thigh, moaning for the feeling of Billy’s thumbs digging in against his nipples. Billy would be rough, but not too much, just perfect, and it seemed like nothing in the past or future fucking mattered at all, only this. 

It was the most blissful surrender Freddy had known in months, and when Billy tipped his head back with both hands and kissed his mouth again, Freddy drank down the secret sweetness of it, too, his heart full to bursting, beating fast. Even the sound of his name on Billy’s lips was enough to make him feel like he was awake again after a coma. 

“Billy,” he said, so that Billy could feel it, too, and he grinned when Billy gave him a little whine and a shiver in answer. Freddy’s hands were up under the back of Billy’s shirt, and his warm skin felt so good under Freddy’s palms. He wanted to just stroke his hands over Billy’s shifting back and shoulder muscles for hours, but first he wanted Billy inside him, so bad, as hard as he could get it, right away.

“Have you got--?” Billy asked when he pulled back, already working on the front of Freddy’s pants.

“Oh-- Yeah.”

There was a wooden cubby behind Freddy’s twin bed, and inside it was a little box, hidden behind a stack of comics, that contained his lube, a compact vibrator that he didn’t like using because it was noisy and made him miss Billy so much it ached, and a pack of condoms. He offered all of this to Billy, not sure how much of it he required. Freddy had stopped blowing randoms after a friend of his got a cold sore on his mouth and panicked, thinking that it was an STD. They both got tested at the health center and neither of them had anything, but it had shaken Freddy off of his casual encounters at least for the time being, and not occasionally letting himself suck random dick made missing the feeling of Billy’s in his mouth almost unbearable. His cock throbbed for the need of having that now, whatever happened next-- At least he’d know that feeling one more time, thank god. 

Billy was looking down at the lube, or maybe more so at the condoms, breathing hard and seeming lost. 

“It’s okay that you’re with Canary,” Freddy said when Billy met his eyes, clearly looking for some kind of cue. Freddy shrugged one shoulder. “You can be with me, too. I just want you, like. Please?”

“Have you--” Billy said, picking up the lube and avoiding Freddy’s eyes. “You’ve. You’ve done--”

“Not this,” Freddy said. He stroked Billy’s sides, his hands back up under his shirt. “I was saving this for you, of course. Nobody but you gets to be inside me. Okay?”

Freddy had no idea what he was doing on any level. Nor was he prepared for the emotional consequences of the arrangement he didn’t even know he was negotiating, flying by the seat of his pants and thinking almost entirely with his dick. He’d had no time to prepare and hadn’t even dreamed that this was what a reunion with Billy would go like, feel like. Billy blinked down at him, looking so thrown that Freddy knew he’d expected this to go very differently, too. 

“Okay,” Billy said, softly. He took the condoms out of the box and set them on the bed alongside the lube, then eyed the vibrator. “Want me to use that on you?” he asked, smirking. 

Freddy gave him a soft punch in the side, felt himself blushing. Billy snickered and kissed Freddy’s mouth, opened his pants.

“Have you put that thing inside yourself?” Billy asked, bringing his lips to Freddy’s ear, maybe too bashful to ask him this while looking down into his face.

“No,” Freddy said. “I just, ah.” He didn’t really want to talk about what he did with it. The whole thing was a futile exercise in trying to stimulate the feelings Billy had given him. He had liked the idea that it was electric, like a person who held powerful lightning inside their body, though of course it was nothing like that in practice.

“I’m gonna put my fingers in you,” Billy said when he had Freddy’s pants and boxers off. Freddy was spread out before him in complete surrender, nude from the waist down, his sweater rucked up on his heaving chest. “Okay?” Billy asked, because of course he remembered Freddy saying he didn’t want to try that, once. 

“Yes,” Freddy said, watching Billy rub lube over two fingers. He was hard against his belly, leaking, and wanted to see Billy undress. He tugged at Billy’s shirt. “Take it off,” he said. “Please?”

Billy obliged him this, but he left his pants and even his shoes on while he moved down between Freddy’s legs. Freddy spread them a little more, nervous. He’d tried this on himself since losing Billy and discovered he did really like it, in fact loved it a lot, which had depressed the fuck out of him when he thought he’d never get Billy back like this, because he sure as shit wouldn’t trust anyone else in the entire world to do this to him.

Because it felt so weirdly, deeply intimate, even more than pushing his cock into Billy, as if Freddy had never been so vulnerable as he was when Billy watched his face while touching him there with his fingers, spreading lube around the tight clench of him, still just on the outside, testing. Freddy took two handfuls of his unmade bedsheets into his hands and threw his head back, groaned. 

“Push in,” he said, whispering. “Please, I can take it, go.” 

They both moaned low in their chests when Billy did as Freddy instructed, and Freddy shuddered all over at the feeling of Billy’s finger slipping into him, wet and warm and thick, pressing him open. He felt his mouth dropping open and his breath coming faster. He sat up on his elbows with a grunt and tugged his sweater off, threw it onto the floor, then dropped onto his back for Billy again, completely exposed, fully in his hands. Freddy’s lingering guilt about certain things he said made this feel even better, because it was like Billy deserved to take him apart. Freddy was so ready to let Billy have this, to just give him fucking everything, even if it meant watching him leave with all of it again.

“God,” Billy said, rubbing Freddy’s trembling belly with his other hand while he fucked him with his finger, slow. “You look so fucking hot like this.”

“You like this haircut?” Freddy asked, reaching up to grab a handful.

Billy shrugged one shoulder, leaned in to kiss his knee. “Too short,” he said.

“They’re growing back,” Freddy said, meaning his curls, the ones Billy loved to tug and run his fingers through. Freddy already felt so much better, so real and good again. He was also already worried about what would happen when this was over, but he kept that as distant as he could, turning away from it whenever his mind tried to go there. He moaned and clenched up around Billy’s finger, knowing he should make this last but already wanting more. “Faster,” he said. “Please?”

Billy seemed to like all the begging Freddy was suddenly willing to do. His eyes were dark and hungry as he started to fuck Freddy in short little jabs of his finger, watching Freddy go crazy for it and scratch at his chest when the friction felt really fucking good.

“Can I put another one in?” Billy asked when Freddy was relaxed around this feeling, boneless with pleasure as Billy started to graze his prostate, just teasing. 

“Yeah,” Freddy said. “Do it.”

Billy twisted his finger inside Freddy and dragged his knuckle hard over his prostate, as if to admonish him for giving an order, and he grinned when Freddy hissed and tightened up around him, arching. 

The second finger almost hurt, but only at first. Freddy was pushing himself down against the squelch of both inside him before long, holding in the guttural moans that wanted to explode out of him. 

“Who’d you tell them you were?” he asked, peeking down over his jittering chest at Billy, who was laser focused on watching his fingers as they pushed wetly in and out of Freddy, staring as if he wanted to mentally record this for later. 

“Huh?” Billy said, dragging his eyes up to Freddy’s face.

“My roommates, _ahhh_ , yuh-- What, who did you tell them you were?”

The guilty look on Billy’s face said: _your foster brother_ , and Freddy growled at him. 

“What was I supposed to say?” Billy asked, his fingers going still. “Your best friend? Is that even true anymore?”

“Fuck me now,” Freddy said, ready for the hard part that wasn’t this other, differently hard part. “Please, enough, I need it.”

Billy rolled a condom on and went in carefully, taking his time and letting Freddy guide the pace. Freddy held on to Billy’s biceps and whined in pain a few times, pausing their progress before goading Billy on once he’d adjusted to the feeling of being this full, stretched thin, pushed open. Billy had a big cock, bigger than Freddy’s. They used to joke about it, saying that was why they only fucked the other way, with Freddy inside Billy. Freddy always wanted to say, I could take your big dick, don’t worry about it, but he’d held off on that, saving it for when he wanted Billy to actually put him on his back like this and fuck him hard, because he knew that would happen next if he ever said that out loud.

They kissed when Billy was all in, sighing against each other’s mouths. Freddy felt incredible, claimed, owned, everything he’d been dying to feel for so long, only ever wanting it from Billy. He moaned when he felt Billy shaking, loved that he felt like he could feel that shake inside him, too, every part of them so close. He stroked his fingers through Billy’s fringe, trying to push it back and laughing a little when it fell forward again. They both groaned for how good that felt, Freddy’s laugh shifting Billy’s cock deep inside him and making them both twitch together, wanting more. 

“Missed you,” Billy said hotly as he dragged his cock out just a bit, his lips soft and wet against Freddy’s when he sunk back in again. “Can’t breathe without you,” he added, to clarify what missing each other felt like, as if Freddy didn’t know. 

“That’s your superpower,” Freddy said. He reached down to squeeze Billy’s ass, grinned when it made him snap his hips and moan. “Boy who doesn’t need to breathe.”

“Fuck you,” Billy muttered, nipping at Freddy’s bottom lip and then licking over it. “Calling me a boy,” he said when Freddy peered up at him. 

“I’m two months older than you,” Freddy said, and they both laughed at the memory, but the laughter tapered off into something sad, and Freddy needed to change the tone in a big way. “You fuck like a boy,” he said, squeezing around Billy’s dick. “C’mon, don’t, ah. Don’t hold back, just. Show me how hard you want to fuck me, wanna see it, feel it.”

“Tell me how it feels, first,” Billy said, fucking him in long, slow drags. “You’re the, nnh, the eloquent one. So, so-- Tell me, ah. I wanna know if it feels the same to you as it does for me, almost too good.”

“Yeah,” Freddy said, nodding eagerly and shifting his hips, trying to get more of Billy into him though it was also so close to being too much, almost scary when he bottomed out and felt like he was lodged in Freddy’s soul or something, his wet cockhead touching sacred things deep inside. “I, ah.” Freddy didn’t want to say any of that out loud. “I love how, like. Slimy it feels.”

“Slimy?” Billy looked offended, then laughed. “What the fuck.”

“Just, ah! That slide, nhnn. It’s so wet and thick, I don’t know, feels so good. Please, harder? Please?”

Billy kissed him, elbows braced on the bed around his ears, and was still kissing him when he started snapping his hips hard, harder. Freddy groaned against Billy’s mouth, panted and nodded, jerking himself up against every thrust and starting to properly lose his mind for how amazing that felt and how fully Billy had him at his mercy, Freddy pinned tight underneath him and wide open for him.

“Like that?” Billy panted out when he could see that Freddy did. He knew Freddy’s close-to-coming face very well and could surely see how dumbfounded and hazy he was getting, barely able to focus on words as his dick rubbed against the hard flat of Billy’s stomach, just short of enough friction to finish him off. 

“Billy,” Freddy said, without meaning to, holding his gaze and whimpering when Billy found his hands and pinned them to the bed, against the edge of the cubby. It almost hurt, and that was Freddy’s favorite thing about it. He whined low and came because it hurt a little, so good, just right.

“Yeah, god,” Billy said, fucking him harder. “Fuck, Freddy. God, I dream about you. Dreamed about this, wanted it so bad--”

“Then why, why--”

“Was saving it,” Billy said, voice breaking, “Saving you for, for-- When, ah, _oh_ \-- When I really, really needed-- You, this, Freddy, _fuck_.”

When Billy buried his face against Freddy’s throat Freddy thought he might start crying, but he didn’t, just gritted his teeth against Freddy’s skin and pummeled into him until he was unloading, the last thrust so deep that Freddy cried out and wrapped his arms around Billy’s neck, holding on tight, almost scared, not sure if it was frightened for himself or Billy. It just felt like so much, so real, and Freddy had felt outside of reality for too long, away from this.

They were shaky afterward, holding on to each other like they were afraid to move, but Freddy needed Billy to slide out, was overstimulated in about fifteen different ways and also needed to find out what was going to happen post-fuck, couldn’t wait any longer. He nudged Billy free gently, and they both moaned with a special kind of one-time-only sadness as Billy slipped out of him, soft and slick with lube. 

Freddy helped Billy take the condom off, because it felt like some kind of concession, not making him deal with this depressing new element of their fucking alone. He tossed it into the trashcan near his bed, atop a bed of crusty jerkoff tissues. Billy slumped onto his side between Freddy and the wall, avoiding Freddy’s eyes when Freddy rolled against him and combed his fingers through Billy’s hair. 

“So,” Freddy said when Billy finally looked up at him. “Hi.”

“Hello.” 

“Welcome to my dorm room.”

“Thanks, I like it.”

They both exhaled heavily, unable to start laughing about any of this. Freddy curled up against Billy’s chest and breathed in deep, reveling in the smell of his post-sex skin and rubbing his face there shamelessly.

“How’s it going, seriously?” Billy asked, his hand sliding over Freddy’s back. He tentatively felt his way over the knot there, seeing how bad it had gotten since he’d stopped rubbing it out every night.

“It’s good,” Freddy said, and this was true in all ways except for the one where Billy wasn’t there to do it all with him. “This is going to sound like the lamest thing ever-- No pun intended-- But there’s this club for kids with disabilities and I’ve made some awesome friends there, like. They get it, and it’s cool. To have that.”

“That doesn’t sound lame,” Billy said, stroking Freddy’s too-short hair. “Also no pun intended,” he added, which made Freddy laugh and hold him tighter.

“Get this,” he said, looking up at Billy. “It’s called WINGS. Like the kind you fly with.”

“Oh.” Billy snorted. “Cute.”

“Yeah. People here are all right in general, like, obviously some are snobby shits who think they know everything, including freshmen-- Especially freshmen. But my roommates are a pretty good combination of laid back and super uptight, like my particular combination, kinda makes me wonder if PSU spied on me extensively before matching me with them, it’s a little spooky how much we get each other.”

He felt Billy stiffen a little, but he was smiling, too. He looked happy for Freddy, even with the sad eyes in full effect, like he was watching Freddy be happy on a distant shore, even while they held each other.

“How’s Dick?” Freddy asked. “No-- Pun intended?”

“Ha-ha. He’s fine. I mean, not really. I dunno. It’s a fucking mess, Freddy. The whole superhero world feels like it’s in disarray. Will you please come back to Philly sometimes, as Bullet? Just on weekends? And when you’re home for Thanksgiving, we’re gonna patrol together, right?”

“Right,” Freddy said, relief flooding through him like sunlight. He didn’t even realize the extent to which he’d felt like he was living in a windowless box for months until he let this influx of hope soar through him, because Billy was back in his arms and making plans for their future. Even if it wasn’t the future Freddy envisioned, not even by half, he’d take it. He’d seen the alternative. This was better, enough. It had to be.

“I need your help, ‘cause.” Billy took a deep breath and looked down at their joined hands, squeezed. “I know what Dick thinks, about Superman doing it. But I don’t think he’s right. I think-- Freddy. I think it was Sivana.”

Freddy felt something ice cold and electric move through him. He nodded, though he had no idea what Billy was basing this on. 

“Tell me,” he said, folding his legs up against Billy’s chest. “The investigation-- God. Tell me everything.”

“Dick says Batman really didn’t find much about Sivana. We’ve been going through his computer files, his research, and that seems true, but. I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, really.” 

“Feelings matter,” Freddy said, and he rolled his eyes at how dumb that sounded. “Speaking of which, um. I miss you, too. A lot. Did I say that yet?”

“You don’t have to,” Billy said. “I feel it, like. From across the state. I feel it in my fucking teeth. I can’t be this miserable and not know that you are, too. Trying to stay apart is stupid, just. Obviously we’ll both have our own lives, and, yeah, that hurt, a lot, getting used to that idea, after we shared a room and were together so much, but. We’ll always come back together. You’ll always have me, Freddy. Anytime you need me, just tell me and I’ll be there.”

Which meant they wouldn’t be together by default, and those separate lives would include other partners like Black Canary, at least for Billy. Freddy nodded to himself. He felt the truth of that sinking into him. He had to get okay with it. There was no way around it.

Freddy looked up at Billy, thinking: well, that’s settled. There was something in Billy’s eyes that he didn’t like, a new kind of guardedness, and he didn’t realize what it was until Billy had kissed him goodbye and flown back to Wayne Manor, saying he couldn’t leave Dick alone for long without risking a breakdown. 

Freddy figured out what that look was about almost as soon as Billy was gone, while lying there on his back in bed and holding the sheets against his nose, breathing in the smell of Billy that was left behind on them. That sad, guarded, brand new look of Billy’s was directly connected to the worst thing Freddy had said during their fight. It was the one thing he couldn’t take back, even if he wanted to.

_Remember, even if it seems like--_

_Underneath--_

_I’ll never forgive you._

 

**


End file.
